


Reborn

by foralaugh



Category: Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, First PC spends majority time as a horse, Gen, Peasant Uprising, Portal Fantasy, Ranks and reincarnation, Reborn PC prefers tiger for dungeons, Slow burn in terms of no romance for 35 chapters, dragon girlfriend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 52
Words: 113,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foralaugh/pseuds/foralaugh
Summary: Cooped up inside with nothing to do? Why not try Pathfinder Reborn, the new open-world RPG that's sure to transport you to another world. Literally.
Kudos: 2





	1. Hooves Out

With nothing to do but game these days, Caxi downloaded some new, free-to-play RPG called Pathfinder Reborn onto his/her/their old, slow and constantly wheezing laptop. He checked the OS storage capacity. Yep, this was definitely gonna be the last game he ever gamed.

He whiled away the last few hours of the download on his apartment’s ratty old sofa, catching single pieces of popcorn in his mouth. Those he didn’t catch, he stared at, askance. He glanced from the floor to laptop screen and back.

As drained as he was from the pandemic shut-in, the house cleaner in him couldn’t sit by. Not while knowing that one wrong step would grind those kernels into the ugly but clean carpet where they’d chill for all eternity. Just as Caxi finished vacuuming up the children of the corn, low, epic music washed into the room--only slightly distorted by the buzzy whir of the laptop's fan.

"Sweet!" Caxi unplugged the vacuum but left it on the floor and scrambled back to his desk. "Pathfinder Reborn. Alright, let's see what you got."

[Select race]  
[Select class]

"Race it is," Caxi shrugged. He didn't know anything about the game system and that was ok. The only thing he wanted, nay, NEEDED right now was to have a little escapist fun. As a treat. "Time to build the funnest character EVER."

He took his time reading through all the race descriptions and narrowing down his options to the three races that really appealed to him. In the end, he had to go with naiad.

[Naiads are protectors of freshwater areas such as lakes, ponds, and rivers. While many naiads are reclusive, others love to explore, bonding to bodies of water as they travel. Some choose to visit settlements built near their bodies of water as long as those settlements are respectful to nature and the fey.]

It was their aesthetic that did it. The sample avatar reminded Caxi of a painting that'd become a meme, Truth Coming Out of Her Well to Shame Mankind. The naiad had the same, translucent-like skin, now with a bluish-green cast, and long dark hair that appeared freshly washed but not dried.

"Respecting nature, keepin' it clean, that vibes," she nodded, selecting naiad.

[Dexterity and Charisma increased by +2]  
[Strength decreased by -2]  
[Swim speed 30ft added, low-light vision added, languages Common and Sylvan added]  
[Fey Nature unlocked: +2 to Handle Animal and Knowledge Nature]  
[Naiad racial abilities unlocked: Inspiration and Water Bond]

"Ooo, racial abili--oop!" Caxi clicked the wrong tab, sending her to-- "Ooo, ability scores!"

The ability scores were confusing. Caxi had 20 points to spend, but every time she put one in a score, the price(?) to increase that score went up. After playing around with her stats, she decided to go with a balanced lineup for now and go back to change it after she'd picked her class. Assuming she didn't forget.

[Unnamed's Ability Scores]  
Strength: 14  
Dexterity: 14  
Constitution: 13  
Intelligence: 13  
Wisdom: 12  
Charisma: 12

Time to look at the classes. Caxi's eyes widened to black saucers. "Woah!"

There were so many options. The house cleaner was up all night reading about the classes. Sure, they didn't remember even half of what they read, but at least they were able to determine that for their first playthrough, they'd try a physically-focused class--they'd always learned best with a hands-on approach.

Of those, the shifter class had to be the funnest.

[The shifter class offers a way to experience a shapeshifting character that is more martially inclined than a spellcasting druid. With each new level, the shifter’s powers grow in new and surprising ways, creating a character that thrives in battle, exploration, and stealth.

Whether riding on the wind as a falcon or hiding in some fetid bog waiting to strike, the shifter is a true master of the wild. Both a defender of nature and a fierce predator, the shifter can take on the forms of nature and even fuse them together with devastating effect and unbridled savagery.]

Instead of beating people up with a weapon or your fists, it appeared to be turning into an animal to beat people up as a bear or something. "Yeahhh, boi!"

[Shifter class weapon and armor proficiencies unlocked]  
[Secret language unlocked: Druidic]  
[Shifter class abilities unlocked: Shifter Claws and Wild Empathy]

[Select first aspect]

Caxi was given a list of animals to which they could be supernaturally attuned. There were a TON of good options, hilarious options. "A horse? I can be an actual horse beating people up with my hooves?"

That was exactly like the comedy routine that'd been gifed and memed up and down all their feeds. "Yep, locking it down."

[Secret race unlocked: Kelpie]

"Ooo, secret, huh?" He clicked the pop-up.

[A kelpie is a deadly shapechanging predator that can be found in saltwater and freshwater environments, including fens, rivers, swamps, and underground pools and lakes.]

The kelpie looked like the naiad. After a month of self isolation in his/her/their well. The fey had slimy, transparent skin and hair. Transparent webbing linked his long, bony fingers. The sliver of face staring out between his greenish-black, drowned locks was gaunt and horse-like.

Caxi got chills just looking at the kelpie's snaggletoothed grin. Excited chills.

Because it was a secret race, all the stat modifiers and racial abilities and languages and such were hidden behind [???]s. Not that it mattered. Caxi was hooked. "Click, race change."

[Ability scores altered and locked. They can now only be viewed from the in-game menu.]  
[Naiad racial abilities removed]  
[Racial languages and abilities altered and locked. They can now only be viewed from the in-game menu.]

[Secret shifter class archetype unlocked: Feyform Shifter]

"OOO!" More secrets! 

[Feyform shifters are intimately linked to the First World, and can draw from it to gain otherworldly powers.]

That was all the info the game was willing to give up. Secreter and secreter! "Yep, it's happening. Click!"

[Shifter aspect altered and locked. It can now only be viewed from the in-game menu.]  
[Shifter Claws altered: Shifter Hooves]

"Hmmm, can I see my hooves?" In fact, she could.

[Shifter Hoof: at-will, kick or stomp with a hoof as a secondary attack for 1d4 bludgeoning damage]

"Sweet!" Caxi checked on her Wild Empathy ability while she was at it.

[Wild Empathy: requires 1 minute uninterrupted, 1 wild animal or magical beast within 30ft, make a Diplomacy check improve the attitude of an animal]

"Animal Crossing, here we come." With pretty much everything else locked behind [???]s for now, there was only one thing left to do.

[Name character]

"Horse biscuits." Her kelpie shifter was cool, fun, and creepy in a good way, like Halloween. She deserved a fitting name.

Caxi scrolled through page after page of name lists on her phone. In the end, though, she had to go with simply, "the Cleaner. And, done!"

[Enter Pathfinder Reborn]

The tinny but epic theme music swelled in volume and distortion, flooding Caxi's tiny apartment with sound. "What the--"

The music refused to be muted. In fact, it resonated deep down to the core of her bones like she was rattling around in a diving bell--the neighbors were gonna kill her!

Except the game got to them first. The screen, the entire room, even Caxi's own body blurred and distorted into impossible, spliced shapes synched to the cacophony. Caxi was pretty sure they screamed, but there was no way to tell at that point. Everything winked out like an old screen into a fuzzy, potent darkness.

Then Caxi was floating, in darkness and in water. They inhaled without thinking.

Panic surged. Caxi clapped their hands around their throat. But there was no burning in their lungs or eyes or nose. This was fine. They were just vibing down here. In their well.

"Oh my god, I'm in the game!" They were also, somehow, talking underwater. Their voice and even their words sounded way different--whale-like but in a low, hoarse, and whispery way. "What language am I--"

The mere thought pulled up the in-game menu. Caxi dolphin-squealed excitedly. They could finally check out their character/Reborn self.

[the Cleaner, kelpie feyform shifter 1]  
Neutral medium fey (aquatic, shapechanger)  
Initiative: +9  
Senses: low-light vision, Perception +6

[Defense]  
Armor Class: 19 (+5 Dex, +4 natural armor)  
Hit Points: 12  
Fortitude: +4  
Reflex: +7  
Will: +2  
Misc: resist 10 fire

[Offense]  
Speed: 40ft, swim 40ft  
Melee: 2 slams +6 (1d6+4 plus grab), shifter hoof +6 (1d4)  
Special attacks: Captivating Lure

[Statistics]  
Strength: 19  
Dexterity: 20  
Constitution: 15  
Intelligence: 11  
Wisdom: 14  
Charisma: 19

Skills: (0/5 ranks earned)

Racial feats: Alertness, Deceitful, Fey Nature, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse

Feats: (0/1 feats earned)

Languages: Aquan, Common, Druidic, Sylvan, telepathy (1 mile, previously touched creatures only)

Gear: 105 gp

Special qualities: amphibious, change shape (Small/Medium humanoid, horse, hippocampus)

Class abilities: Feyform Aspect, Shifter Hooves, Wild Empathy

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" Sure, Caxi didn't know what most of this was, but cool knew cool when he saw it. And there was nothing cooler than the 3D visual of the Cleaner floating and vibing with his hair and stare and horsey grin and seaweed-like rags in the menu spotlight beside his character sheet.

“Captivating lure? Consider me captivated.”

[Captivating Lure: 1/day, use a powerful mental attack to lure in a single creature within 60ft. A successfully captivated creature within 5ft offers no resistance to the kelpie’s attacks.]

“Daang, you’re like a magic angler fish, huh?” Well, now Caxi was. The thought made her bubble over with giddiness. “Alright, let’s check out that secret aspect.”

[Feyform Aspect: 4 minutes/day, a feyform shifter can take on a First World aspect and assume fey traits. Gain darkvision 30ft, reduce attack damage by 1 unless dealt by a cold iron weapon, and gain a blurred, shifting, and wavering outline as per concealment.]

“Wait a second--darkvision! That’s exactly what I need.” She closed the menu, plunging her world back into watery darkness. “Feyform, go?”

[Feyform Aspect activated]

Just like that, Caxi could spot the top circle of the well at the edge of her vision. She swam upward, clearing the distance in only a few swift strokes. Her new, webbed and bony hands grabbed the well’s rim. She broke the surface, leaning her elbows on the stone blocks.

[Dungeon entered: Catacombs of Wrath]

An otherworldly shriek of rage split the air behind her. Caxi spun in the water.

A bat-winged head flew down at her. Tentacles dangled from its chin and scalp. Its fanged mouth distended for a horrific bite.

“Ahhh!” Caxi shrieked back. The Cleaner, however, fell back on predatory instincts.

She slammed both palms into the sides of the fiend’s head. Skull bones cracked.

It howled and snarled, its flapping wings tugging their arms this way and that. Its teeth snapped closer and closer to Caxi’s face.

“Don’t! Even! Think about it!” The Cleaner held tight to its scalp tentacles and smashed their fist into the flying head. Their hardened knuckles bludgeoned all the way through the bone.

The leathery wings flapped their last.

“Yike!” said Caxi, tossing the monster out of their hands and over the side of the well. “Well, this IS a dungeon. I guess there’s gonna be more monsters to ki--clean up.”

They climbed over the side of the well. It was lined with humanoid skulls and stained by dark smears. It was actually a good thing this was a dungeon or that wouldn’t have boded well. At all.

There were two doors on opposite sides of the well’s round chamber. With every passing second draining their darkvision, there was no time to waste. “First thing’s first--find a dag-gone light.”

They picked the closest door and jogged as quietly as they could down the dungeon hall.

A red marble statue of a beautiful but SUPER pissed off lady stood at its end. She wore flowing robes, and her long hair was in an updo of hooks and blades. One hand clutched a large book, its face inscribed with a seven-pointed star. The other held a glittering metal and ivory ranseur--an actual weapon.

“Can I use that?”

[No proficiency]

“Oof, denied. Can I sell it?”

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Appraise]  
[Ranseur’s appraised worth: 400 gp]

“Nice! Lemme just put that in my inventory.” Just like that, he stowed the weapon in whatever interdimensional space the menu had to offer. Doing so made the Cleaner’s body feel slightly heavier, but it was no big thing.

It was also not a light. Feelin’ the bern, Caxi flat out ran to the statue room’s side door. He kicked it in, his foot shifting into a horse hoof to do so right before his eyes.

The large chamber was once a prison, as testified by the nearly two dozen cells that lined the room’s perimeter. Now they held only dusty bones.

The real sight was the two hairless humanoids on back-bent legs. They were tussling over a collection of skulls, tearing and biting at the other with claws and hideous mouths, each flanked by crab-like arms with three-pronged “hands.”

The monsters immediately stopped at the bust-open door. Their sunken, glowing red eyes zeroed in on Caxi.

“Oh, crap.” But the Cleaner knew what to do. 

[Change Shape activated]

Just like that, he was growing upward and lengthwise into a draft horse. Hugely muscled and 19 hands tall, Caxi suddenly got an inkling of why engines were measured in terms of horsepower.

[Strength increased by +6]  
[Dexterity decreased by -2]  
[Constitution increased by +2]  
[Natural armor bonus increased by +6]  
[Bite attack added]  
…

The humanoid monsters screeched and charged at the horse that had just infiltrated their dungeon. The Cleaner’s supernatural magic armor was high, however, that their claws and teeth did nothing but brush her hide.

“Thanks for the free grooming,” said Caxi in whinnying horse-speak. “Now, yeet!”

She chomped on a monster’s shoulder, tearing off a sizeable chunk. Then reared up and kicked with both hooves. Turned out even these freaky looking beings couldn’t survive a caved-in chest.

[Feat earned: Power Attack]  
[Level up: Feyform Shifter 2]  
[Base attack bonus, Fortitude, and Will increased by +1]  
[Shifter class abilities unlocked: Defensive Instinct and Track]

“Sweet!” she whinnied. “But first, a torch, a torch, a torch for my horse!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the Cleaner, kelpie feyform shifter 2]  
> Neutral medium fey (aquatic, shapechanger)  
> Initiative: +9  
> Senses: low-light vision, Perception +6
> 
> [Defense]  
> Armor Class: 21 (+5 Dex, +4 natural armor, +2 defensive instinct)  
> Hit Points: 24  
> Fortitude: +4  
> Reflex: +7  
> Will: +2  
> Misc: resist 10 fire
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 40ft, swim 40ft  
> Melee: 2 slams +6 (1d6+6 plus grab), shifter hoof +6 (1d4+2)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 19  
> Dexterity: 20  
> Constitution: 15  
> Intelligence: 11  
> Wisdom: 14  
> Charisma: 19
> 
> Skills: (1/10 ranks earned)  
> Appraise +2
> 
> Racial feats: Alertness, Deceitful, Fey Nature, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats: (1/1 feats earned)  
> Power Attack
> 
> Languages: Aquan, Common, Druidic, Sylvan, telepathy (1 mile, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Gear: 105 gp, ranseur
> 
> Special qualities: amphibious, change shape (Small/Medium humanoid, horse, hippocampus)
> 
> Class abilities: Feyform Aspect, Shifter Hooves, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Track


	2. Dungeon Dining Etiquette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reborn treats all of Pathfinder's Golarion as a giant sandbox. There are dungeons, like the Catacombs of Wrath, but also events that can be triggered. The dungeons are at set difficulties, too, so heading to one at an underpowered level could spell disaster.
> 
> Caxi isn't the only surviving player character in the game, but he/she/they and the Cleaner are the focus for now.

The good news was that the old prison room had plenty of torches and even flint and steel lying around. Caxi took ten--torches, that was. The bad news was that holding the torch in the Cleaner’s mouth made it really hard to talk to himself/selves(?).

And he couldn't use his bite attack without dropping the dang thing. But here he was, a horse beating up monsters in a dungeon. Caxi couldn't complain--he was living the dream.

He clip-clopped further into the prison. The inner hall was long and narrow, but the Cleaner scraped by. It opened up into an even larger chamber.

It was unnaturally cold, wisps of fog rolling low over the stone floor. Eleven prisoner pits filled the room, each covered by crumbling wooden lids. Shuffling sounds and low moans echoed up from below.

Swift, heavy footsteps ran out from the darkness. A huge, scarred goblin with an extra two arms and legs growing out the back of his head leapt to a stop. He took a huge, back-bending inhale, then opened his mouth.

A 20ft line of stinking acid spewed out at Caxi. The Cleaner reared back, dropping the torch. Even his newly improved reflexes couldn't save him from getting splashed. "Yowch! It's on, Fratboi!"

Caxi hit him with the good ol' hoof and mouth combo. Unlike the other freaky monsters, Fratboi could take a hit. 

The goblin hit back, too. He cut a good slice into Caxi with his longsword--just one of the three weapons he was wielding. Thankfully, the Cleaner's hide brushed off the handaxe and dagger, but the damage was already done.

The next battering round dropped the big goblin. Caxi, bloodied, snorted to steady his breath. The monsters in the pits wailed and clawed at the pit covers. At least they couldn't get out and attack while the Cleaner was wounded.

She frowned as best a horse could. There had to be some way of healing her hit points. Her eyes fell on the goblin corpse she was about to loot. "Hypothetical question, what would happen if I ate this guy?"

[Skill ranked earned: Knowledge Nature increased by +1]  
[Knowledge Nature: Consuming 1 portion of meat restores 1 Hit Die of hp.]

"Welp, I guess this is happening." Caxi leaned her head down. She squeezed her eyes shut. And ripped off the goblin's face.

It had to be a kelpie/predator thing because that raw monster flesh? Delish. No, Fratboi didn't taste like chicken. It was a heavier, porkier meat with a little acidic zest.

It was so good, in fact, that Caxi had no trouble chomping down on a second portion to replenish all her health. The cherry on top was stowing her fallen, partially eaten foe's +1 longsword, silver dagger, and handaxe into the Cleaner's extradimensional horsey inventory.

The monsters trapped in the prison pits clawed and wailed the whole time.

"Alright, alright, hold your horses," she neighed. She clopped over to the first pit within light of her fallen torch. "Who wants to be put out of their misery first?"

Caxi smashed the lid in two with one powerful stomp. Two withered arms, flesh rotting off the bone, clawed up at her in attack. A zombie--of course! What else could have survived centuries of rotting in a cell?

She gave it a one-two kick in the deteriorating skull. The zombie was tough, resisting her damage somehow, but it was also far weaker than the prison warden monsters had been. Another few chomps and stomps did the trick.

The rest of the pit lids continued to rattle, just begging to throw hands. Caxi sighed. "I guess this is why they call it grinding. Alright, zombois. Who's up next?"

[Level up: Feyform Shifter 3]  
[Base attack bonus and Will increased by +1]  
[Shifter Hooves improved: ignore cold iron, magic, and silver damage resistance]  
[Shifter class ability unlocked: Woodland Stride]

[Feat earned: Shifter's Edge]

"Oh?" Caxi neighed or attempted to with the torch handle in their mouth.

[Shifter's Edge: add half of your shifter level as a damage bonus to your natural attacks]

"Shweed!" It turned out grinding wasn't so bad after all.

At the end of the hall was a stairwell filled with debris and a door off to the side. Caxi kicked down the door.

The chamber was almost perfectly spherical. A ragged book, a scroll, a bottle of wine, and a twisted iron rod with a forked tip floated in the center of its space. Those circular walls gave a clue as to the "how."

They were plated with sheets of red metal that rippled with silent, black electricity. Here and there the electricity would coalesce into spiky runes to form words.

"What wanguwage ish 'at?"

[Skill ranked earned: Linguistics increased by +1]  
[Language learned: Thassilonian]

Question answered. Caxi read the words silently: "anger," "wrath," and "revenge."

"Hrmm." He was starting to sense a pattern in this dungeon. If the dungeon maker was all about revenge, this weird room was probably trapped.

[Skill ranked earned: +1 added to Perception]  
[No traps detected]

All good news! Caxi stepped from the doorway into the sphere. Floating horse doo-doo doo-doo-doo-doo, floating horse doo-doo doo-doo-doo-doo--oh yeah, he was pawing and treading air right up to that loot.

He stowed the wine. The wand and scroll he tried to identify.

[Skill ranked earned: Knowledge Arcana]  
[Identification failed: insufficient skill]

Oh well, he could always sell them. As for the book, nay, tome, it was written in some other foreign language--not Thassilonian. The woodblock illustrations of monsters imparting cruel, horrific deaths to their prey left Caxi closing the cover.

He didn't want to know what that said. He was pretty darn sure nobody would want that escaping out of the dungeon. So...he ate it.

It was made of paper, which turned to dust in his mouth, and well-worn leather, which was chewy and kinda like beef jerky that got left in a pocket and washed out by the laundry machine. All-in-all, not as good as the gobl--

"What are you doing you stupid horse?! That's my favorite book!" a voice screeched in Thassilonian.

Caxi turned, cheeks full of gummy paper and leather mash. In the doorway flapped a tiny, winged demon with ram horns accompanied by two of those hairless humanoid monsters with mouth arms. The demon was wearing a miniature tiara--so, the dungeon boss? Mini-boss?

Regardless, she and her large minions had the advantage of the floating horse. Or did they? The Cleaner gave a defiant "neigh!"

[Captivating Lure activated]

Much to the hairless minions' surprise, all the tension and wrath dropped off their boss. She floated as unresistantly as the chewed up tome into the Cleaner's reach. They could only watch, stupefied, as the horse wrecked the crap out of the demon.

With a victorious whinny, Caxi came after their hairless hides too.

[Dungeon cleared: Catacombs of Wrath]

[Level up: Feyform Shifter 4]  
[Base attack bonus, Fortitude, and Reflex increased by +1]  
[Defensive Instinct improved: +1 added to Armor Class]  
[Feyform ability unlocked: Fey Shape]  
[Power Attack improved: accuracy decreased by -1, damage bonus increased by +2]

[Reward earned: +1 increase to one ability score]

"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" Caxi neighed, kicking all four legs high in the air. She immediately dropped that point into her base Strength score for a cool, even 20.

Before she relieved the tiny demon of her teeny-weeny tiara and whatever other eensy-weensy loot she’d been packing, Caxi checked out her new ability.

[Fey Shape: take the form of any Small or Medium fey that you know for a number of minutes per day equal to your Wisdom modifier and level]

“What fey do I know?”

[Skill rank earned: Knowledge Nature increased by +1]

The Cleaner’s knowledge check turned up three different fey. The first was the ijiraq, a clawed humanoid whose head was the skull of a fanged caribou. 

[Ijiraqs protect the frigid beauty and placidity of their arctic homes against all who would trespass. They are creatures of icy resolution, merciless and unflinching as the arctic winds, bringing doom to both vicious and innocent interlopers equally.]

The second was the bogeyman. This langy, fanged humanoid was never seen without a long dark coat and tall hat. They exuded an aura of palpable horror.

[Many believe that the most cruel and mischievous fey become bogeymen as a punishment/reward for their actions. Others see bogeymen as supernatural manifestations of society's willingness to do itself harm. Bogeymen use their powers to haunt secluded natural places where they can hunt their prey unobserved.]

The final fey was the rusalka. They were aquatic, like the kelpie, but beguiling rather than unnerving. Their long hair danced and flowed around them as though they were perpetually underwater.

[Rusalkas are cold-hearted fey who inhabit waterways near humanoid settlements. Although rusalkas are not undead, many believe that these fey form from the spirits of those who met a sinister end in the water. Rusalkas themselves do little to dissuade such rumors.]

“Hmmm.” Caxi began sensing a pattern in the Cleaner’s habits and knowledge of fey. Not that he could be bothered to get bogged down in such trains of thought when there was lootin’ to do.

He picked up a tiara, a +1 dagger, and a polished obsidian stone carved with a three-eyed jackal. “Cool. Does that mean anything?”

[Skill rank earned: Knowledge Religion increased by +1]

The three-eyed jackal was the symbol of the goddess Lamashtu, Mother of Monsters, the Demon Queen, etc. The stone had no power of its own, but it could be used by clerics of the demon lord to channel her unholy, divine power.

The horse frowned. Now that he thought of it, he was pretty sure he remembered seeing the three-eyed jackal in the book he’d mostly devoured. 

Caxi bit and crunched until he shattered the stone between his teeth. He spat out the pieces--he weren’t no stone-eating chicken.

And that was that! The dungeon was cleared and Caxi had only used up one of his torches. He had, however, used up his totally OP, once per day Captivating Lure ability. “It should be safe to sleep here now, right?”

That was what “cleared” meant in every good sense of the word--“cleaned.” He gave a whinnying chuckle to himself and the Cleaner as he curled up comfortably, #horselife. The magic room floated him to its peaceful center. 

Caxi yawned. His eyelids grew heavy faster than they ever had in the real world.

[Rest: 8 hours]

Caxi woke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Literally. Doubling back through the dungeon, she found a flight of spiral stairs that wound up around a circular pillar into the darkness above. She clip-clopped her way up.

Rocks had fallen on the upper stairs, but kicking them down behind her cleared the path. Just another kind of grinding, but each dislodged rock let in a pocket of warm sunshine and sea-breezy air.

Finally, the horse was able to climb free into the alleyway of clustered buildings. She whinnied free and victorious in the afternoon sun and long shadows.

Which unintentionally drew a few old and puzzled humanoid faces to the glass-less windows. There were only shutters here--all the buildings wood on stone foundations and wood shingle roofs.

Caxi’s eye locked with that of an elderly, blinking and squinting half-orc. “Oh, right. I look like somebody’s prized draft horse on the lam.”

[Change Shape activated]

She reverted back to the Cleaner’s less powerful, normal kelpie self. The old half-orc screamed and slammed the shutters shut. “Hey, what did I do to y--”

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Sense Motive]

Ooo. Her kelpie face had scared the bejeezus out of them because she looked like Halloween all the time. “Wait, I can fix this.”

[Change Shape: naiad]  
[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Disguise]

It was a subtle change, compared to shifting into a horse. The slime vanished from her hair. Her skin became opaque with that same blue-green tint from the character creation screen. The kelpie’s rags remained on her body, but Caxi knew without seeing that her face had lost the predatory stare and snaggletoothed, horsey grin.

They walked barefoot but confidently out of the alley and onto the street. Caxi pulled up the menu’s map. They found themself in the small, seaside town of Sandpoint.

Taking just a few steps west toward the Lost Coast, they were struck by the huge ruins of an ancient, crumbling tower. Its stone walls seemed to grow out from the bluff itself--what was left of them, anyway.

Caxi ran excitedly toward the ruins. “Oof!”

And collided with a huge cart of garbage being pulled in the same direction by a pair of old donkeys. 

“Watch it!” said the driver.

“Sorry, my bad.” They continued on their way. And stared with a growing sense of horror as the garbage cart passed them, continuing in that same direction. “No. What? No.”

The donkeys got to the ruins first. They stopped by the edge of the cliff. The driver and two young helpers tagging along on the back of the cart jumped down. They shovelled and tossed their stinking cargo over the bluff.

Caxi grabbed the sides of their face and screamed. That was it. That was it. Once they’d sold their loot, they were getting the heck out of this dumpy little town. Goodbye forever, Sandpoint, to you and your secret demon dungeons, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the Cleaner, kelpie feyform shifter 4]  
> Neutral medium fey (aquatic, shapechanger)  
> Initiative: +9  
> Senses: low-light vision, Perception +10
> 
> [Defense]  
> Armor Class: 22 (+5 Dex, +4 natural armor, +3 defensive instinct)  
> Hit Points: 48  
> Fortitude: +6  
> Reflex: +9  
> Will: +3  
> Misc: resist 10 fire
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 40ft, swim 40ft  
> Melee: 2 slams +7 (1d6+11 plus grab), shifter hoof +7 (1d4+6)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 20  
> Dexterity: 20  
> Constitution: 15  
> Intelligence: 11  
> Wisdom: 14  
> Charisma: 19
> 
> Skills: (9/20 ranks earned)  
> Appraise +2, Knowledge Nature +7, Linguistics +1, Perception +10, Knowledge Arcana +1, Knowledge Religion +1, Sense Motive +7, Disguise +9
> 
> Racial feats: Alertness, Deceitful, Fey Nature, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats: (2/2 feats earned)  
> Power Attack, Shifter's Edge
> 
> Languages: Aquan, Common, Druidic, Sylvan, telepathy (1 mile, previously touched creatures only), Thassilonian
> 
> Gear: 105 gp, ranseur, flint and steel, torches (9), +1 longsword, silver dagger, handaxe, wine, scroll, iron wand, tiny +1 dagger, tiny tiara
> 
> Special qualities: amphibious, change shape (Small/Medium humanoid, horse, hippocampus)
> 
> Class abilities: Feyform Aspect, Shifter Hooves, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Track, Woodland Stride, Fey Shape


	3. Player's First NPC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If it feels like the Cleaner is levelling up incredibly quickly, yes, that's correct. Players begin the game on the "fast" xp levelling track to introduce them to the titular "Reborn" or reincarnating mechanic when they hit the Level 20 cap.
> 
> The player's first playthrough is basically an extensive tutorial. Except that most first-timers still don't survive. 
> 
> What can they say? It was rushed to market.

Following the town map, the Cleaner in his naiad disguise made his way to a store called "General Store." The middle-aged human man and woman running the little shop smiled kindly at him. "Afternoon, traveler. Welcome to General Store."

So this was what hot privilege felt like. Caxi smiled and nodded. It felt great. "Thanks. Just passing through and here to sell."

He opened up his inventory and started laying loot down on the counter. He'd just put down the wine bottle when he realized the storeowners were staring at him, jaws slack.

Riiight, they couldn't see the menu cubbyholes he was pulling all this out of. It must've looked like he was conjuring objects out of thin air. He laughed as breezily and dismissively as he could to break the tension. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you--I'm a bit of a magician, but mostly a show-off."

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Bluff]

The humans chuckled shakily but relieved. "You a pathfinder by any chance?"

"What's a pathfinder?"

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Knowledge Local]

The storeowners explained, and the game itself filled in the gaps. Pathfinders were members of the pathfinder adventurers guild with guildhalls all over the world of Golarion. In addition to helping out with local crises, pathfinders actively sought out dungeons to raid before the monsters could multiply and escape out into the wider world.

Because Sandpoint was still a small, growing frontier town, however, it didn't have a pathfinder guildhall. The nearest chapter was in the port city of Magnimar--a day's journey south of here.

"Do they dump their trash into the ocean, too?" Caxi muttered under her breath.

"Pardon? What was that?"

"Nothing. That'll be all from me, thanks. What can I get for that?"

"Well, Mx. Traveler, to be fair, we've only got 2000 gold on us to spare. We can give you 2000 for the whole caboodle, but we'd be underpaying ya. How about we throw in some traveling gear in for free? And you can take your pick of a weapon and armor--we got nothing fancy but more reliable than those sad rags you're wearin'."

Caxi wiped a tear from her eye. There were actually some good people in this town. "Sounds good. Let's see what you have."

She liked using her hooves and bite to fight, but she didn't have any ranged weaponry, so picked up a sling. There was sure to be stuff lying around to pelt more flying enemies with.

As for the armor, her Defensive Instinct wouldn't be as protective without it. For now, she just swapped out her kelpie rags for some sturdy, kelp-black traveling clothes.

Caxi thanked the storeowners and stepped outside to consult her map. Joining the pathfinder guild had "main quest" vibes all over it in a game called Pathfinder Reborn, so she decided to postpone any trip to Magnimar until after she'd done more exploring and levelling.

There were tons of points on the map for this land of Varisia. There were other lands, but the game wouldn't let her scroll to see them--at least not yet. As she studied the various landmarks, the tutorial note at the bottom of the pop-up caught her eye.

[Fast travel can only be used to jump to known locations within 24 hours of your fastest mode of travel.]

Because the Cleaner could shift into a horse, Caxi's radius of fast travel was larger than someone's on foot, but that still only left two known points they could jump to--Magnimar in the south or Windsong Abbey on the coast to the north. "Okay, I'll bite. What's the Cleaner know about Uptown Abbey?"

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Knowledge Geography]

Windsong Abbey or "the House of Twenty Faiths" was built as a haven for diverse faiths to worship side-by-side in peace and harmony. These days, however, the number of faiths had dropped to about five. The building itself was known for its stately marble lighthouse looking out over the Varisian Gulf.

Caxi looked down both lanes of the street. The coast was clear. They shifted back into a draft horse. "Windsong ho!" they whinnied.

[Fast travel activated]  
[Time lapse: 24 hours]

The Cleaner whooshed through a blurred tunnel of colors in the blink of an eye. Their hooves hit the ground in the late afternoon shadows of...ruins. "Dang! This place is a dump. Did those monks go quarantine crazy?"

Farm fields were scorched black. Houses had been rendered into jumbles of timber. The mangled remains of half-eaten livestock were strewn everywhere. Turkey vultures wheeled in the skies above, the reek of ash and decay thick in the air.

As for the abbey, its outer stone wall was full of gaps and sections collapsed into rubble. Two buildings visible through the holey wall had been completely wrecked, but some of it was still intact, including its two towers. The massive, blue marble lighthouse with vertical white accents was still up as was a second, smaller tower. Both overlooked the sea from the coastal cliffside.

The horse’s eyes widened. “Wait. Is that what happens when a pathfinder fails to clear a dungeon?”

The monsters multiplied and escaped into the world. That totally tracked. Which meant there was a dungeon here. And mons--

A deep, loud voice hooted in delight. A giant in filthy furs, hunched but easily 10ft tall, ran with thudding steps across the blackened field. They held both arms out toward the Cleaner and licked their lips hungrily.

“Not today bucko--horse is off the menu!” They chomped at the giant and kicked with both hooves. One kick, however, noticeably failed to bash through the giant’s defenses. “Uh-oh.”

The giant roared in pain but mostly anger. They slammed their fists down on their noncompliant dinner. 

Caxi was fast enough to dodge one slam, but the other hit their flank like a hammer. The pain was unreal. They were sure they’d screamed but could no longer hear.

Time for the big guns.

[Fey Aspect activated]

Unlike when they’d used their Fey Aspect in the pitch black catacombs, here in the light there was no mistaking the change in their outline--blurring, shifting, and wavering like a distorted animation.

The bloodied fey horse attacked with all their might. Their teeth chomped. Their hooves kicked. Again, one hoof was deflected. This time, however, they’d bloodied the giant, too.

The wearied, sweating giant spat blood and struck heavily. One fist slammed into the wounded horse. They blinked in disbelief as the second didn’t, smashing through the Cleaner’s false outline instead.

Still, panic alarms shrieked through Caxi’s mind. If he took another hit that was it. And there was no telling if death in this magically transporting game equalled real death.

But if he ran without eating and healing, it’d probably be right into the hands of a second hungry giant or worse. With a whinnying scream of desperate strength, he threw hooves with the giant.

His bite cleared the way for a chest-caving kick. The giant thudded so heavily to the ground that Caxi felt it shake.

[Level up: Feyform Shifter 5]  
[Shifter class ability unlocked: Trackless Step]  
[Fey Aspect improved: Damage reduction increased by +1, wings with fly speed 30ft added]

[Feat earned: Dodge]

Sure enough, a pair of giant moth’s wings the same color as the Cleaner’s darkwater coat sprouted from their back--complete with eye spots in a more striking shade of bluish-green. Caxi didn’t notice. He was rapidly chowing down on his defunct enemy at one meat portion per round.

He’d just downed three Hit Die’s worth of giant sashimi when a second, eagrily hungry hoot filled the air. He turned toward the next giant contender, pawing the scorched field in challenge and to wipe the gristle off his hooves.

“Bro, you picked the wrooong time to interrupt this horse’s dinner. ‘Cause I just got stronger.”

Sure enough, the second hungry giant went down easier than the first. Marginally, but still. 

As for Caxi, she recognized grinding time when she saw it. She shifted out of her winged fey aspect back to her normal horse. After eating, healing, and looting 120 gp off both giant corpses, she spent the rest of the evening trotting through the scorched farmland/ruined village on the hunt for giants.

The horse hunted down and partially devoured four more giants and nine of a weaker but also freakier-looking two-headed giant.

[Level up]  
[Level up]  
[Level up]

By the time the Cleaner had cleaned house, evening darkness had fallen upon the razed farming village and its avenging horse. She could feel the fatigue setting in. That was enough monster slaying for now.

Caxi found a quiet corner of rubble in sight of the abbey and its two towers. Curiously enough, the lighthouse was still functioning--its beam of kaleidoscopic color and light shone obliviously over the gulf. She made a mental note to check that out in the morning. For now, she curled up for a hard-earned eight hours of rest.

The horse woke blissfully rested and ready for a brand new day of kicking butt. It was early enough in the day to be dark, so the lighthouse was still operating. "Alright, let's see if we can find what's making you tick."

Only as Caxi approached the soaring tower did they realize the answer could just be "magic." Its blue and white marble was completely unmarked, as though carved from a single, enormous and two-colored block. A similarly flawless spiral staircase carved seamlessly along its side wound all the way up to the shining top.

He prodded the double doors at the tower's base with a cautious forehoof. They didn't budge. The horse tried again with a smart kick. "Yowch!"

Maybe not that smart. Caxi began to sense just how this lighthouse had survived the destruction. Maybe it'd been built magically indestructible in the first place.

With the doors obviously a no-go, he clip-clopped up the outer staircase to find a window to peek through. If this place was so indestructible, maybe the monks had run here to hide.

The only windows belonged to the lantern room at the top. The thin panes were stained in vibrant colors. At the room's center was a huge sphere of dazzling light.

"Gah! My eyes!" Caxi turned his head to the side. He took a minute to blink away the floating spots. He opened his eyes and jumped, hindhooves hastily scrambling off the edge of the stairs.

There was a bedraggled, middle-aged elf in the window. He/she/they had reddish brown skin and was taller and thinner than a human. His strawberry blond hair fell in long, unwashed tangles. There was a haunted look in his black-ringed, solid blue eyes. Also, puzzlement.

The elf gestured at the horse to stay where he was. He quickly ran out of sight down a flight of interior stairs. He must've gone to open the doors. 

As Caxi clip-clopped down to meet him, it occurred to him that this harried survivor might not have eaten in days. He shifted into his naiad form just in case. Surely a monk wouldn't eat a fellow sentient being, right?

"You're not a horse," said the elf, hanging half out the door.

"That's my attack form, which I gotta kindly ask you not to eat."

"Ah." Caxi couldn't tell if the elf's voice was truly disappointed or if she was just making a quarantine joke. "I take it you're not here to kill me, then?"

"Nope! I'm here to tangle with your dungeon."

"Well, that's not bad news, but a single naiad/horse isn't going to make much difference."

"The Cleaner and I just got rid of all your giants."

"The Cleaner?" She looked this way and that.

"Oof, sorry, I meant me. Me and myself. We, royally, wrecked all your giants."

"Ah." There was just no telling what that elf's tone was saying. "Perhaps I misjudged you. Thank for that, by the way. I can finally go out to forage. You wouldn't happen to be a pathfinder, would you?"

"No, geez, I'm just an adventuring horse out to pop increasingly cool and difficult monsters with my hooves."

"That is, surprisingly, good news. Everything that's happened here is the fault of those meddling pathfinders. Here, come inside and I'll tell you all about it."

"Don't you want to forage first?"

The elf bit her lips. "Actually, yes. Wait out here for me, I'd you don't mind. My name is Caszir, by the by, cleric of Desna."

"Cool. I'm the Cleaner." She waited until after the cleric was gone to ask, "Who's Desna?"

[Skill rank earned: Knowledge Religion increased by +1]

[Desna, the Song of the Spheres, is an ancient goddess of freedom and luck, and is credited with the creation of the heavens. She is said to take the form of an elf with butterfly wings containing all the beauty of a clear night sky.]

"Nice." That was more info than they'd gotten before--no doubt thanks to the skill increase.

Caszir returned an hour later with, shockingly, salad. Garden vegetables to make a salad--but still! Caxi could understand avoiding the half-eaten livestock left to rot under sun and maggots, but those villagers still had pantries. One, if not all, had to be moonshiners.

"What?" said Caszir. "Do you, a part-time horse, have something against produce?"

Caxi shut their mouth. Probably better not to tell the clean-eating cleric what their diet had consisted of lately. They kept quiet as the elf opened the door with a password: "Pharasmae."

"If want to come in, you need to say it too," they explained.

A word later, Caxi entered the windowless, cluttered, heart-stoppingly filthy quarters of the lighthouse keeper. They came to a complete stop in the living room despite the cleric heading up the stairs to the next floor/single room. 

Caszir popped their head down through the marble floor hatch. "Wha--ah. Pardon the mess, but I've been under isolation and duress for the past few days, maybe a week now."

"Haven't we all." Caxi shook their head. "Ya know, I'm not called the Cleaner for nothing."

The elf sighed. "I've tried to avoid thinking this, but there's an infinitesimally small chance that there are survivors trapped in that 'dungeon,' as pathfinders call it. If you're truly interested in helping, let me take care of the Pharasmae, and you take care of the monsters."

"Walking back, are you saying the password to this place is the same as its name?"

Caszir's mouth twitched inscrutably. "Technically. Yes."

"Daaang. And I thought my password strengths were weak."

"Do you want my help or not?"

Ah-hah! So the elf was displeased, not amused. Good to know. "Yeah, that'd be great."

And Caxi followed Caszir up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the Cleaner, kelpie feyform shifter 8]  
> Neutral medium fey (aquatic, shapechanger)  
> Initiative: +9  
> Senses: low-light vision, Perception +10
> 
> [Defense]  
> Armor Class: 24 (+5 Dex, +4 natural armor, +4 defensive instinct, dodge +1)  
> Hit Points: 96  
> Fortitude: +8  
> Reflex: +11  
> Will: +4  
> Misc: resist 10 fire
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 40ft, swim 40ft  
> Melee: 2 slams +12 (1d6+15 plus grab), shifter hoof +12 (1d6+10)  
> Ranged: sling +14 (1d4+5)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 20  
> Dexterity: 20  
> Constitution: 15  
> Intelligence: 11  
> Wisdom: 15  
> Charisma: 19
> 
> Skills: (13/40 ranks earned)  
> Appraise +2, Knowledge Nature +7, Linguistics +1, Perception +10, Knowledge Arcana +1, Knowledge Religion +2, Sense Motive +7, Disguise +9, Bluff +9, Knowledge Local +1, Knowledge Geography +1
> 
> Racial feats: Alertness, Deceitful, Fey Nature, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats: (4/4 feats earned)  
> Power Attack, Shifter's Edge, Dodge, Rending Hooves
> 
> Languages: Aquan, Common, Druidic, Sylvan, telepathy (1 mile, previously touched creatures only), Thassilonian
> 
> Gear: 3005 gp, flint and steel, torches (9), adventuring gear
> 
> Special qualities: amphibious, change shape (Small/Medium humanoid, horse, hippocampus)
> 
> Class abilities: Feyform Aspect, Shifter Hooves, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Track, Woodland Stride, Fey Shape, Trackless Step, Shifter’s Fury


	4. Breakfast at Windsong's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Caxi is genderfluid, the Cleaner's change shape ability subtly, physically reflects this as Caxi flows between genders

The mission brief took place in the kitchen over Caxi’s breakfast salad. The elf and disguised kelpie sat opposite each other at a small, rustic wooden table. It was surreal being this close to a person after self-isolating for so long, even if he was an NPC.

The deal with the Windsong Abbey dungeon was relatively simple--the abbey had been built over an older temple with mysterious sealed doors called the “Doomsday Doors.” They belonged to an ancient cult of Groetus, God of the End Times, who took the form of a bloated, skull-faced moon.

According to the monks’ research, these double doors supposedly counted down the days until the end of the world. At which point they’d open and unleash a localized apocalypse to help the End Times. The Head Cleric at the time of Windsong’s founding decided that the monks should keep the older, buried temple secret to prevent anyone from tampering with the sealed Doors.

What they foolishly failed to anticipate was the existence of a “Doomsday Key.” Which a team of pathfinders recently discovered over the course of their travels and dungeon-delving. It led them straight to Windsong.

There were six members of the team. The leader was a one-eyed elf named Anatu. His second was Setra, an elven woman who wore a distinctive red hood and cloak trimmed in black. They were accompanied by four human pathfinders.

By right of the pathfinder guild, Anatu demanded access to the secret temple dungeon to destroy its monsters. The Head Cleric, (“Pharasma rest his soul”), had no choice but to allow them passage. That was the last anyone saw of them.

Only three days later, monsters infiltrated the abbey from within--giants, undead, evil fey, qlippoths, and likely more that the lighthouse keeper had failed to notice.

“Qlippoths?”

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Knowledge Planes]

Qlippoths were primordial beings born from the essence of the Abyss, a plane outside of this dedicated to chaotic evil. Qlippoths were one of the oldest known life forms. Though endlessly varied in size and shape, all had such a horrific appearance that the mere sight of one was an attack on one’s mind and sanity.

“Oh. That’s pretty serious.”

“Yes. Quite.”

At the time of the attack, there were about three dozen people in the abbey. Four were clerics--the Head Cleric, Zerim, cleric of Nethys, Geika, cleric of Zon-Kuthon, and Nillitu, cleric of Erastil. Thirty were acolytes. One was a visitor, Krire, a young half-elven woman.

The Head Cleric gave his life holding off the qlippoths. It wasn’t enough. He bought them five minutes at best. It was long enough for Caszir to escape into the warded lighthouse. “I didn’t see anyone other than the enemy giants make it outside.”

“Don’t feel bad. You probably made the right choice. I mean, you’re alive.”

“Thanks,” said the cleric dryly.

“Anyway, walking back, what kind of evil fey do you remember seeing?”

“Several bloodthirsty redcaps and a fear-feeding bogeyman.”

“Nice!”

The elf’s mouth twitched in displeasure.

“Not like, however you’re thinking. I’m a shifter, remember?”

“Ah. An infiltration. Forgive me for underestimating your intelligence.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it--it’s my lowest stat.”

“Your self-awareness does you credit.”

“Thanks,” said Caxi, standing up from the table. “If that’s all, I guess I’ll go take a crack at it.”

“Wait.” Caszir stood as well. They ran to the floor/room upstairs and returned with a midnight blue cloak. “Take this. It’s a cloak of resistance.”

“Awww, thanks, Caszir.”

[Equipped: +1 cloak of resistance]  
[Fortitude, Reflex, and Will increased by +1]

Caxi spun around, letting the cloak fly up and whirl. “It’s beautiful, really Desna-y.”

Caszir rubbed their temples with one hand. They sighed inscrutably. “There’s one last thing. I doubt it’s significant, but it just struck me as odd, even for a pathfinder. Anatu kept this shard of metal on him. It wasn’t any holy or unholy symbol I’d ever seen. It was always in his hand. I could’ve sworn I saw him whispering to it--perhaps even caressing it.”

“A possible One-Ring situation, gotcha.”

“I...am going to assume that means you’re more familiar with this item than myself, as unlikely as that may be.”

“I saw all three Lord of the Rings movies, so yeah.”

The cleric muttered something in another language. The Cleaner only caught the name “Desna,” so it was probably a prayer. As he waved goodbye, he received several notifications from the game.

[Secret objective cleared: Find Caszir and secure his aid]

[Level up: Feyform Shifter 9]  
…  
[Feyform class ability unlocked: Fey Shifter]

[Fey Shifter: gain an animal shifter aspect. When you use Fey Aspect, choose to combine the minor form of your animal aspect]

“Oh, sweet!” The game offered the same list of animal aspects Caxi remembered seeing from character creation. He waited until he was outside the lighthouse before looking through them. “I’m a kelpie, so I should probably have something watery. Oh, hey--turtles give Wisdom bonuses!”

He needed that for his Defensive Instinct. “Turtle-moth-horse, here we come!”

It was midmorning by then, and the Cleaner was getting hungry for brunch. With a total of eleven minutes of Fey Form usage, there was no reason not to shift into a bogeyman before even approaching the abbey gate.

[Fey Form activated]  
[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Disguise]

Not only did he grow taller and thinner, but his skin and hair were bleached of color. His eyes turned to beetle-black pits with weird, silvery-gleaming pupils. The biggest difference from change thus far, however, was the materialization of a tophat on his head and a long, dark coat with mismatched patches sewn on the inside. Each one bore a unique eye.

[Racial abilities unlocked: Deepest Fear, Striking Fear, Terrible Rejuvenation]  
[Deepest Fear: at-will, exude a 30ft aura of fear that manifests as a reflection of the viewer’s deepest fears]

[Striking Fear: on a critical hit or sneak attack of a target suffering a fear effect, that effect becomes one step more severe, and the target may be subject to the bogeyman’s Deepest Fear aura again]

[Terrible Rejuvenation: heal 5 HP per round while any creature in your aura is suffering from a fear effect]

“Ooo, I’m a Scary Spice.” Snickering to herself, she put on a fake limp, doubled over holding a fake gut wound, and hobbled toward Windsong.

The huge, heavy doors of the gatehouse had been battered down. The outer door hung perilously askew from its bottom hinges. The inner had been completely unhinged and knocked to the pavement stones. Fragments of stained glass were scattered between them--no doubt from the busted windows.

The gatehouse shadow-filled hall was ominously empty, so of course Caxi suspected a trap.

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Perception]

Sure enough, right there behind the outer gate’s arch were four “murder holes.” A massive stone block hung in the shadows above over each of the holes. They were held by connected lengths of rope so that a single tug would send all four crashing down on an intruder.

Only the Cleaner hadn’t come here as an intruder. 

“Hey you dopes!” she called out in Sylvan, her voice husky with whispers and the scratch of skeletal branches coming from underneath the bed. “I’m hurt! Let me in!”

[Skill increase: +1 added to Bluff]

Caxi waited in tense silence. Their stomach filled with bubbles ready to pop at any second.

Then came the shuffle of little iron boots on the gatehouse steps. Four small fey entered the shadowy hall. Each carried a scythe on their back longer than they were tall. With gray skin, long white beards, and even longer woolen caps dyed blood-red, these had to be--

[Fey Form improved: redcap added to form options]

“What in the blood you doing out so bloody early, Nik Knokken?”

“Got a lil’ cocky--you know me. The giants ate all the people, so I tried spookin’ a giant. Big oaf ran into a wall and knocked the whole thing down on me.”

The redcaps cackled and slapped their knees. Defenseless.

[Deepest Fear activated]

The patchwork of eyes in the bogeyman's coat began to blink and twitch. Four images rolled out, shifting and distorted like reflections in a soap bubble. 

They were the four redcaps, only completely white and drained of all blood--even marrow. Their corpses flapped like windsocks from a clothesline.

“N-N-N-Nik Kn-Kn-Kn-Knokken w-what the b-blood, you b-b-bloody b--”

"I needed a win today."

[Fey Aspect activated]

The Cleaner's new moth wings exploded out from the back of the bogeyman's coat. As the redcaps reached for their scythes, Caxi flew up to the rafters and raked his claws through the hanging blocks' connected ropes.

The redcaps screamed. The stones came crashing down. That was the end of the screaming.

[Level up]

So, yeah, that was a huge win, but there was no time to celebrate. He could already hear more little metal boots clanking across the courtyard beyond.

[Fey Form activated: Redcap]  
[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Disguise]

The Cleaner ran out to meet them, wearing the face of one of the gate guards. "Oh blood, oh blood, oh blood!"

"What the blood happened, Cuttolemy?"

"We thought there was an intruder--stupid, stupid! They went down to check. I stayed with the ropes. I didn't hear anything for a bloody long time--started getting jumpy. Then I hear 'Cut--' and I cut those bloody ropes," he sobbed here, for the dramaz, "but they was just calling me bloody name."

[Skill rank earned: Bluff increased by +1]

"Cuttolemy, ya stupid bloody capper! Now we're gonna have to get those bloody ettins back out here to reset the murder holes. Clankypump is gonna have your bloody cap."

'Cuttolemy' just snivelled remorsefully.

The redcap leader shook her bearded head. She sent two redcaps off to fetch whatever the heck the ettins were. She and the other redcap followed Caxi back to the gatehouse.

The leader kicked the pair of little boots sticking out from under a block. "Blood in the cap, you bloody did it this time, ya stupid capper."

Caxi’s only response was the snivel behind both the leader and her teammate’s backs.

[Fey Form activated: Bogeyman]

The bogeyman raked her claws through the leader’s back in a vicious sneak attack. The leader grunted, spewing blood. Her teammate turned.

[Deepest Fear activated]

Shaken, the redcaps’ teeth chattered. Their trembling fingers grasped at their scythes.

The Cleaner’s claws ripped through the bloodied leader’s throat. A fatal blow. She bared her fanged grin at the knee-knocking redcap. “Night-night.”

Luckily, these redcaps were light. Caxi had no trouble dragging the last two enemies into the darker shadows before the other half of the redcap team arrived with four of the two-headed kind of giant.

“I guess Redrum took Cuttolemy to Clankypump,” said one redcap to the other. They stood back while the ettins hefted up the stones to re-tie the ropes.

Caxi’s one advantage here was that the ettins were large, loud, and dumb as crunk. They were oblivious as she sneak attacked the nearest redcap. The fey cried out and went for their scythes.

She managed to claw through the first and ward off the shaken strike of the second. The ettins turned the eight of their heads over opposite shoulders to see the bogeyman throwing hands with the one living redcap.

They dropped the murder hole stones. The one ettin wearing metal armor unsheathed a battleaxe and heavy pick with a bellowing roar. The three in tattered leather drew a flail in either hand.

Caxi clawed down the last redcap, but this fight was about to go south. FAST. “Cleaner!”

[Change Shape activated]  
[Fey Aspect activated]

Turtle-moth-horse time. The Cleaner flew up and over the gatehouse into the burned clearing outside. The ettins continued to roar and lumber over top of the stone blocks toward the outer door. The leader and their dumb buddy crashed together trying to run out the gate at the same time.

The horse went straight into attack. The head ettin and their second each swiped at them with one free arm. Even the giants couldn’t fail to notice that their attack was too awkward from this position.

As Caxi tore into the leader with tooth and hooves, the ettins roared and switched their efforts into squeezing out of the gate. They scraped and stumbled through onto their feet. 

Only for the second pair of ettins to rush into the same gate trap. With the leader and one ettin having free arms, though, they gave as good as got.

Battleaxe, heavy pick, and flails slashed, swung, and bashed at Caxi’s hide. The Cleaner, however, had strengthened their defenses. And with DR 5/cold iron, even those blows that made it through their blurred outline made less of an impact.

Caxi stood their bloody ground long enough to take the leader down by the time the last two ettins joined the melee.

It was a knock-out, drag-down, dirty fight. Caxi learned the hard way that being surrounded by enemies gave them flanking bonuses to their attacks. But the Cleaner was tough as nails.

He may’ve been up on a single leg, but in the end, he was the last one standing. Panting and bloodied, he finally got his brunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the Cleaner, kelpie feyform shifter 10]  
> Neutral medium fey (aquatic, shapechanger)  
> Initiative: +9  
> Senses: low-light vision, Perception +10
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 24 (+5 Dex, +4 natural armor, +4 defensive instinct, dodge +1)  
> HP: 120  
> Fortitude: +10  
> Reflex: +13  
> Will: +6  
> Misc: resist 10 fire
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 40ft, swim 40ft  
> Melee: 2 slams +14 (1d6+15 plus grab), shifter hoof +14 (1d6+10)  
> Ranged: sling +16 (1d4+5)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 20  
> Dexterity: 20  
> Constitution: 15  
> Intelligence: 11  
> Wisdom: 15  
> Charisma: 19
> 
> Skills: (19/50 ranks earned)  
> Appraise +2, Knowledge Nature +7, Linguistics +1, Perception +11, Knowledge Arcana +1, Knowledge Religion +2, Sense Motive +7, Disguise +11, Bluff +11, Knowledge Local +1, Knowledge Geography +1, Knowledge Planes +1
> 
> Racial feats: Alertness, Deceitful, Fey Nature, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats: (4/5 feats earned)  
> Power Attack, Shifter's Edge, Dodge, Rending Hooves
> 
> Languages: Aquan, Common, Druidic, Sylvan, telepathy (1 mile, previously touched creatures only), Thassilonian
> 
> Combat gear: +1 cloak of resistance  
> Other gear: 3005 gp, flint and steel, torches (9), adventuring gear
> 
> Special qualities: amphibious, change shape (Small/Medium humanoid, horse, hippocampus)
> 
> Class abilities: Feyform Aspect, Shifter Hooves, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Track, Woodland Stride, Fey Shape, Trackless Step, Shifter’s Fury, Fey Shifter


	5. Yeeted into the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things at the abbey don't go as planned, to say the least

[Feat earned: Vital Strike]

“Shweet!” said Caxi, his mouth full of ettin. He’d just finished eating and had almost finished looting.

In addition to the giant weapons and armor, the leader had also been carrying a large burlap sack on their belt. It contained silverware, jewelry, and artwork.

“Hold up.” The sack loot looked like loot the ettin must’ve looted from the abbey. Normally, Caxi wouldn’t question looting somebody’s looted loot, but he’d met the surviving monk Caszir. “I should probably not sell thi--”

The horse’s ear twitched. Nine projectiles whizzed through the air. The Cleaner dove for cover behind a less-eaten giant body. Crossbow bolts from the abbey thunked all around him.

Caxi jumped to his hooves. A bearded redcap woman stood on top of the gatehouse. She was backed up by nine more redcaps reloading their crossbows.

Caxi’s eyes narrowed. “Clankypump!”

“Fire!” she shouted.

Caxi yelped and ran, galloping as fast as his horse hooves would take him. He couldn’t get close to the abbey now that it was on high alert. Not at this level, anyway.

So the horse ran right to the cliffs overlooking the sea. He jumped off, bolts whizzing by inches from his frame. He pawed at the air and fell past the edge of the bluff.

[Fey Aspect activated]  
[Change Shape: hippocampus]  
[Natural attack gained: Tail Slap]  
[Darkvision and Scent gained]

“Nice!”

The hippocampus was the kelpie’s water-horse form. The front half of her body remained unchanged, but the back grew translucent, bluish-green fins. Her back legs fused into a long, powerful tail. Of course, she had her wings on top.

The Cleaner glided gracefully down over the waves.

[Fey Aspect deactivated]

The wings vanished. The hippocampus dived like a mermaid/mermare into the Varisian Gulf. “A whole new world!” she whinnied and squeaked as musically as she could.

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Swim]

For now, Caxi just enjoyed the feeling of swimming at full speed underwater and without having to go up for air. It was absolutely a whole new world, despite being a song from the wrong movie. Once she’d gotten used to the situation and breathing in the salty-tanged water, however, Caxi slowed her sea-galloping to think.

Truth be told, things at the abbey could’ve gone better. At least, if she’d had someone to help her. Not Caszir, of course. The elf had made it clear she was too weak to fight monsters of that caliber, party or not.

“No wonder the pathfinders went in with a team.” Sure, they’d failed, but Caxi began to sense that these dungeons weren’t meant to be taken on solo. Despite having spawned in one all by herself.

“Oh, well.” It wasn’t like she could just make capable players or even NPCs appear out of thin air. She had no choice but to find some sea monsters to grind on until she’d levelled up enough to handle all those bloody redcaps and the monsters she’d never even seen yet.

Caxi hadn’t yet reached the open waters of the sea when they spotted a huge, barnacled mass on the floor of the gulf. What was once some ancient ruin had now been overgrown with barnacles and a forest of undulating kelp into an immense, razor-edged maze.

“Alright! A dungeon! Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Only as they approached, so did a growing shadow in the water. A prescient chill shivered from the hippocampus’ ears to tail fin. “No!” they neighed in a hushed tone. “It can’t be! That movie was a flop!”

But the merhorse’s darkvision didn’t lie. A gargantuan shark as large as a dragon swam into view. A meg. A megalodon.

[Skill rank earned: Knowledge Nature increased by +1]

Horrifying in its immense size and ruinous appetite, the megalodon was true beast behind the legends of the enormous fish who swallowed ships whole. 

The shark opened its ship-swallowing jaws. Even at their distance, Caxi felt a black hole tug toward that cavernous, tooth-lined gullet. Then the meg whipped its tail and surged forward.

Caxi screamed. A mere water-horse couldn’t outswim a predator from the Early Miocene Period. And that tugging pull toward the meg's maw turned into a full-fledged water vacuum. The hippocampus was sucked in and swallowed whole.

"Nooooo!" Caxi's game--Caxi's life couldn't end like this! Okay, maybe being swallowed alive by a meg was a cooler way to go in real life than in the movie, but still!

Torrents of water whooshed them down the megalodon’s gullet like a massive flush. The hippocampus kicked and slapped their tail to steady out from being whorled around like a log in the bowl. Sharp spikes lining the meg’s gullet tried slashing their hide, but the Cleaner was just too tough.

Tough enough--to fight back! “Cleaner!”

With an aquatic roar, the Cleaner wedged himself between three gullet spikes. He chomped, stomped, and bashed the meg from the inside out.

A roar of pain bellowed and quaked through the megalodon’s gullet. The hippocampus simply hung on for the ride. After all, there was nothing the gargantuan monster could do to him from the inside. It was the meg who’d just made a massive mistake.

Sure enough, the Cleaner ripped victorious out through the underside of the meg. The monster went down trailing a massive red cloud trail. It sunk heavily onto the seafloor beside the overgrown shrine.

[Level up]  
…  
[Feat earned: Improved Vital Strike]

“Whoohoo! Nobody eats the water-horse!” A second, growing shadow in the water caught his eye. Somebody had eaten the water-horse. Once was enough for today.

Caxi cut short his celebrations and hastily swam into the concealing overgrowths of the shrine’s barnacle-kelp-forest maze.

[Mini-dungeon entered: Sunken Shrine]

It turned out all those barnacle growths were razor sharp if you weren’t careful swimming past them. Caxi slowed his pace just to be safe. And quickly lost track of time making his way down the twists and turns--all of which looked exactly the same on his area map.

The one upside was that the Cleaner could use her Track ability to determine whether or not she’d gone down a branch with a single glance. Skill rank earned, indeed.

Caxi finally made her way to the heart of the shrine. The large chamber here had been reclaimed by a forest of blackish-green kelp--the only barnacles were the ones growing off floor, ceiling, and supporting pillars.

In the center of the room and forest stood a giant stone statue of a humanoid obscured by seven layers of veils. In its hand was a fist-sized opal of dark, glittering gray. A merfolk was trying to pry the stone from its hand.

They had billowing hair in the same brilliant orange as a koi fish. Their skin was warm brown and protected by armor made of clamshell plates. Their tail was a rich, shimmering gold, and they carried a silvery white ranseur on their back.

The merfolk’s head snapped over their shoulder. Their orange-gold eyes glared at the hippocampus. “Hey! Get out of here ya cute, dumb water-horse!”

They spoke in Aquan, but there was something about the words, the way they said them--something that reminded Caxi of the world back home.

[Change Shape: Naiad]

“Hey! Sorry to bother you there, but quick question. Are you--”

“No! For the last god--n time! I’m not a f--ing pathfinder!”

“Oh my god, you’re a PC!”

The merfolk stopped. Their jaw dropped. “You-you’re--”

“Also not a pathfinder. The Cleaner, at your service.” Caxi took a big, flourishing bow. “Dang, I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I saw another person.”

“They got you from isolation, too?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what happened. I just started up the game and oof--sucked in.”

“Same. I don’t even know how long I’ve been in here anymore--a d--n f--ing universe better than quarantine, though. I don’t even care if I died to get here.”

“Died?”

“Sure. I live alone, so dehydration probably.”

“Same, yikes.”

“Whatever. I’m alive enough here--more than enough.” The merfolk grinned and flexed their huge bicep. “My name’s Zhenzhu.”

“You mean like--”

“Zhenzhu nai cha,” they said at the same time. Pearl milk tea. The two PCs laughed.

“Wow! Where’d you learn Mandarin?” asked Caxi.

“Taiwanese American, dude,” said Zhenzhu.

“Oh my god! Me too! Well, half.” They’d never once been to Taiwan. If their real body was dead like Zhenzhu believed, well--at least there was a whole new world to explore in-game. Positive. Just had to stay positive.

“Just a sec, Cleaner. I haven’t seen a single monster in here, so they’ll probably come calling as soon as I grab the goods.”

“Whose goods?” The naiad muttered under his breath.

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Knowledge Religion]

[Sivanah, the Seventh Veil, is the patron god of illusion, magic, tricksters, and those who keep secrets. She/their true form is disguised behind her seven veils, each of which is tied to one race. Her symbol is seven gray veils tied in a circle.]

The gem came free with an audible crack. The statue’s stone fingers floated free, trailing little clouds of dust.

The hippocampus caught a new, thick and earthy scent from the kelp. He swung around, back toward his new friend, facing the forest.

An undulating mass of seaweed shifted from dense clump into something giant and humanoid. It floated forward into the clearing. Along with three others from opposite corners.

“Welp, you called it,” said Caxi.

Zhenzhu, keeping their back to the naiad, shot him a pointy-toothed grin. “You ready to see a barbarian werk, water-horse?”

“Heck yeah!” Party. On.

[Change Shape: hippocampus]

They fought back to back. Those seaweed giants just kept coming. But together with another PC at last, it was truly a party.

[Level up]  
[Level up]  
[Level up]

[Mini-dungeon cleared: Sunken Shrine]

[Change Shape: naiad]

"Whoohoo! Yeah!" 

Caxi and Zhenzhu went in for a high-five. They faltered at three feet, half of the "safe distance." They looked back and forth between each other and their poised hands.

They couldn't help breaking down into laughter. Their hands barely clapped. Instead, they fell onto each other in a laughing, shaking, crying hug.

Who knows what happened to their real bodies? But here, at least, they were safe. They were free. And now they knew for certain that they weren't alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the Cleaner, kelpie feyform shifter 14]  
> Neutral medium fey (aquatic, shapechanger)  
> Initiative: +9  
> Senses: low-light vision, Perception +12
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 26 (+5 Dex, +4 natural armor, +6 defensive instinct, dodge +1)  
> HP: 168  
> Fortitude: +12  
> Reflex: +15  
> Will: +8  
> Misc: resist 10 fire
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 40ft, swim 40ft  
> Melee: 2 slams, shifter hoof  
> Ranged: sling  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 20  
> Dexterity: 20  
> Constitution: 15  
> Intelligence: 11  
> Wisdom: 16  
> Charisma: 19
> 
> Skills: (22/70 ranks earned)  
> Appraise +2, Knowledge Nature +8, Linguistics +1, Perception +12, Knowledge Arcana +1, Knowledge Religion +3, Sense Motive +8, Disguise +11, Bluff +11, Knowledge Local +1, Knowledge Geography +1, Knowledge Planes +1, Swim +14, Survival +7
> 
> Racial feats: Alertness, Deceitful, Fey Nature, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats: (7/7 feats earned)  
> Power Attack, Shifter's Edge, Dodge, Rending Hooves, Vital Strike, Improved Vital Strike, Devastating Strike
> 
> Languages: Aquan, Common, Druidic, Sylvan, telepathy (1 mile, previously touched creatures only), Thassilonian
> 
> Combat gear: +1 cloak of resistance  
> Other gear: 3005 gp, flint and steel, torches (9), adventuring gear
> 
> Special qualities: amphibious, change shape (Small/Medium humanoid, horse, hippocampus)
> 
> Class abilities: Feyform Aspect, Shifter Hooves, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Track, Woodland Stride, Fey Shape, Trackless Step, Shifter’s Fury, Fey Shifter


	6. The Waterbois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Level by level getting closer to the Reborn element--exciting!

Caxi, back in naiad disguise, explained the Windsong Abbey sitch to Zhenzhu over their late lunch of seaweed monster salad.

"Sure, shounds fun," said the merfolk, slurping down a long, noodly leaf, "but I need to rest first. I used up all my rage for the day."

"Sweet! Thanks bunches, mer-dude!"

Zhenzhu threw up a peace sign and continued chowing down. They'd been eating at the same rate as Caxi, so they should've been healed by now. There were still mountains of kelp monster all over the shrine, though. He absently wondered if Zhenzhu actually liked the taste or if they grew up in a "waste not" household.

Welp, whatever. He had his own thing to take care of before resting. The level ups had improved the Cleaner's Defensive Instinct and natural weapons (bite, hoof). It was also prompting him to pick another animal to add to his Fey Aspect.

Caxi looked through the choices. Shifting into his combat horse form gave him more natural armor, but it also lowered his original, kelpie form Dexterity. There was an animal that could counter that, though.

"Ooo, tiger tiger. That's a big yes from me."

[Claws added to Shifter natural weapons]

"Huh." Caxi flexed his fingers. Thanks to all the upgrades, his bite, claws, and singular hoof kick just from a humanoid form were serious weaponry. But they still couldn't match up to the strength of his bite and double hoof kicks as a horse.

Not that he was complaining. There was nothing better than beating up baddies as a horsey powerhouse. Actually--Caxi glanced over at Zhenzhu, now packing kelp balls into their inventory--he just might be able to carry the merfolk on his back for like a dramatic dungeon entrance or something.

"Whatcha grinning about?" they asked over their shoulder.

"Presentation, for our party."

"Hey, that reminds me, I think we gotta officially party up on the menu to fast travel together."

"Oh, good catch!" She pulled up the map. Sure enough, there was a tutorial note at the bottom about needing to register a party to fast travel with a group. "Have any party name ideas? I'm thinking 'the Waterbois.'"

"Ha! That's real on brand for you, huh? But yeah, 'the Waterbois!' Love it."

With the party prep settled, Caxi and Zhenzhu took a nice long rest in the shrine's clearing--six feet apart mostly so the merfolk didn't accidentally whack Caxi with their tail. Partially because those virus PSAs had sunk real deep. Too deep to shake off even after an epic, back-to-back battle against the waterworld.

Eight hours later, the Waterbois woke fresh and ready for a brand new day(?) of butt-kicking. The party fast traveled through the Cleaner's map. It was shortly after midnight when they arrived back at Windsong near the edge of the cliff from which the horse had taken her fateful yeet.

Only after Caxi's boots touched down on the scorched grass did she realize that Zhenzhu the merfolk had a fish tail for legs. She looked over with a cringe of concern. And breathed a sigh of relief.

Zhenzhu's tail was both long and strong enough to allow them to slither cobra-like over solid ground. They wouldn't be traveling faster than a horse, but they wouldn't be slowing anyone down, either. The merfolk looked back at her, grinning as they lowered their outstretched arms. "Heheh, glad this worked. So that's the abbey?"

"Yep." And from the light of the moon and stars, it was clear the hostiles who'd taken over were still on high alert. 

The curved glints of scythes spoke of redcaps on the rooftops. Dark, humanoid silhouettes stood almost motionless in the courtyard. There were four of those--all human-sized or larger.

"Roofs or floors?" asked the merfolk.

"You can fly up to the roof?"

"When I'm raging, sure. It's part of my elemental air blood package. Kind of a storm theme."

"Good to know. I'd prefer roofs, though. The Cleaner's got a score to settle with those redcaps."

"Alright! Let's see ya fly, Horse-alot!"

[Change Shape activated]  
[Fey Aspect activated]

With the darkvision flooded in a whole new world of shape and color in the night. The Cleaner's kelp-black wings with vibrant eyespots spread from their back like a moth-winged pegasus. They were joined by bluish-green tiger stripes on their wings, face, and coat--so more like a giant moth-winged zebra.

"Duuude," said Zhenzhu, nodding in admiration.

"Thanks," Caxi said automatically. Though they'd spoken in horse, the merfolk clapped both hands onto the sides of their own head. "Oh, right. I have one-mile telepathy. I can't believe I completely forgot about that."

"Aw! I thought I was like a horse whisperer for a second there," said the merfolk, using their mental connection to reply. "But this telepathy stuff's not bad. You're not also a mind-reader, are you?"

"No, nope, just a feyform shifter."

"Ohhh, fey stuff--yeah, that tracks." Zhenzhu pulled out their ranseur. The pointy end crackled with orange-white lightning. "Right, we gonna do this?"

"Heck yeah! It's party time!"

Mentally whooping and spurring each other into a blood frenzy, the Waterbois took off in their two-pronged attack. Caxi, flying, drew the redcaps' alarm and crossbow bolts. Thanks to his improved defense, however, not one dinky bolt could scratch his coat. Zhenzhu uses the aerial distraction to sneak over the murder stones on the gatehouse floor and into the courtyard.

The creatures within, three zombie acolytes and one zombie armored goblinoid, charged at them with a roar. A few redcaps turned toward the new commotion. Bad move.

The Cleaner swooped down with furious hooves and chomping teeth. “Clankypump!” she whinnied fiercely, smashing a redcap’s cap into their skull.

The weaker redcaps simply didn’t stand a chance. She came through like a wrecking ball down a bowling alley. 

The redcap leader at the back of the line roared back. She zigzagged through her followers, charging at Caxi. She swung her massive scythe. The blade slashed straight through the horse’s throat.

Which blurred and shifted. Clankypump’s scythe met nothing but air. And the force of her swing slammed that blade into the rooftop.

“My turn,” the Cleaner grinned. They ripped the shocked look right off Clankypump’s face with their teeth. Their reared up and came down hard. Their hooves crushed the redcap to the ground.

The faceless redcap wheezed blood. And laughed? “Fools,” she rattled out with her final breath.

Then Caxi heard it--a hissing, slithering shuffle. The horse and the merfolk, both surrounded by their dead and dying, turned in the direction of a caved-in cathedral. 

Out through a small gap in the rubble squeezed what appeared to be a mass of floating monster’s intestines. Only, they were tangled around a fanged mouth, and the tips of the coils also ended in toothy maws.

Oh. Oh dear god. That WAS the monster. A monstrous, inside-out GI tract. Yeah, yep, seeing not one but four of those squeezing out of the ruined cathedral was absolutely an attack on the Waterbois sanity.

And physiology. The sight physically nauseated the horse and merfolk. As hard as Caxi tried to spring up for battle, all their efforts were thrown out the window by the cold sweats, shaking, and extreme need puke.

The Cleaner couldn’t attack. All they could do was defend as the two qlippoth on their case attacked them with biting intestines from all directions. Three bites cleared their defenses and doused them with corrosively hissing gut acid to boot.

The horse neighed in pain and fury. Nobody, not even sentient digestive systems, put the Cleaner in the corner. Vengeance broke through their nausea. They took a big honking bite into a bundle of qlippoth intestines.

The Cleaner yanked biting gut tubes right off the central fanged maw. The qlippoth screamed, digestive acid spewing from its wounds. The stinking chemicals hissed where they hit Caxi, but the horse was too full of killing intent even to flinch.

The qlippoths bit again, but the tide of battle had already turned. The Cleaner zeroed in on his wounded target. Biting and tearing at the height of his strength, he ripped that central maw apart.

One qlippoth down. One too full of gut acid for brains to know it was dead on arrival.

[Level up: Feyform Shifter 15]

[Fey Aspect deactivated]

“Zhenzhu?” Caxi immediately looked to the courtyard for his new friend.

The merfolk, scratched and scuffed but otherwise intact, grinned back up at him. He raised his dripping ranseur into the night air. “Victory! Dun-dun-dun WE are the champions, my friend!”

“Neigh-neigh-neigh-neigh!” Caxi sung back in horse.

“We’ll keep on fighting to the end!”

“Neigh-neigh-neigh-neigh!”

Some singing and monster-eating later, the Waterbois got around to looting their enemies. The redcaps weren’t carrying much but their scythes, crossbows, and leather armor. Except for Clankypump. She also had a translucent red gemstone on her as well as a mysterious ring of keys.

“This looks promising,” Caxi said through telepathy. He had to, holding the keyring up in his mouth.

“Ya know, with our strength we can probably just bust all the doors down,” said Zhenzhu, packing away whatever those zombies had into their own inventory.

Caxi didn’t ask about the contents. She did, however, see the merfolk take a circular headband off the zombie goblinoid leader and put it on their own head. It magically resized to fit them.

“How do I look?” Zhenzhu made an absolutely, blood-chillingly terrifying feral-starving merfolk snarl.

“A-hah, a-ha-ha, oh my god. Like the kind of merfolk about to eat an entire ship’s worth of sailors alive.”

“Muahaha, excellent,” they grinned pointily.

The Waterbois decided to comb through the abbey ruins for any hidden enemies before heading down to the dungeon in the lower levels. They split up to speed up the search. Caxi immediately caught the sound of the merfolk just barreling through any and all closed doors. Definitely tracked for a barbarian.

The horse, however, tried matching keyholes to keyshapes first.

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Perception]

She found herself opening the door of a miraculously unscathed bathhouse. The room was finely tiled with ceramic and glass. Its pleasant floral aroma was as shocking as an accidental freshener spritz to the face.

A large, circular stone bath was built into the middle of the floor. It could easily accommodate thirty people. The stained glass windows along each wall were flanked by large clay vases and copper piping.

Three extremely realistic statues stood facing the gently steaming waters of the bath. The first was of a begging redcap on their knees. The second was of a startled and confused giant. The third was of a mildly startled half-elven woman. She was the only one carrying her weapons in hand, a sword and a hooked club.

There was also no mistaking her unusual resemblance to Caszir. She could easily have been the middle-aged elf’s--daughter! The horse mentally face-palmed.

Of course! That’s why the cleric had been so weird and hard to read about the whole abbey fiasco. Caszir’s daughter had been the visitor and discovered something about the attack but was somehow--no, magically--turned to stone. Yeah!

Caxi’s enthusiasm was short-lived. Yeah, they’d found Caszir’s daughter, but she was also petrified. For all the horse’s butt-kicking aptitude, they had no way of helping to restore her. All they could do was break the bad (but not worst) news to the elf once the Waterbois had taken care of the dungeon.

They carried the sobering thought out of the bathhouse. Zhenzhu didn’t find anything interesting except for a room full of giant-sized vulture demons. Together, they made short work of the dancing, chanting, spore-spraying demons.

As it turned out, the four vulture giants had been guarding the abbey’s descending staircase. Zhenzhu gave Caxi an eager, grinning nod. Caxi gave them back a more subdued nod--though it was hard to tell, coming from a horse.

After a quick vulture-meat snack, the Waterbois descended down into the vaults under Windsong.

[Dungeon entered: Temple of Doomsday]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the Cleaner, kelpie feyform shifter 15]  
> Neutral medium fey (aquatic, shapechanger)  
> Initiative: +9  
> Senses: low-light vision, Perception +13
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 26 (+5 Dex, +4 natural armor, +6 defensive instinct, dodge +1)  
> HP: 180  
> Fortitude: +12  
> Reflex: +15  
> Will: +9  
> Misc: resist 10 fire
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 55ft, swim 55ft  
> Melee: 2 shifter claws, shifter hoof, shifter bite  
> Ranged: sling  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 20  
> Dexterity: 20  
> Constitution: 15  
> Intelligence: 11  
> Wisdom: 16  
> Charisma: 19
> 
> Skills: (23/75 ranks earned)  
> Appraise +2, Knowledge Nature +8, Linguistics +1, Perception +13, Knowledge Arcana +1, Knowledge Religion +3, Sense Motive +8, Disguise +11, Bluff +11, Knowledge Local +1, Knowledge Geography +1, Knowledge Planes +1, Swim +14, Survival +7
> 
> Racial feats: Alertness, Deceitful, Fey Nature, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats: (7/8 feats earned)  
> Power Attack, Shifter's Edge, Dodge, Rending Hooves, Vital Strike, Improved Vital Strike, Devastating Strike
> 
> Class bonus feats (horse aspect): Endurance, Run
> 
> Languages: Aquan, Common, Druidic, Sylvan, telepathy (1 mile, previously touched creatures only), Thassilonian
> 
> Combat gear: +1 cloak of resistance  
> Other gear: 3005 gp, flint and steel, torches (9), adventuring gear, loot
> 
> Special qualities: amphibious, change shape (Small/Medium humanoid, horse, hippocampus)
> 
> Class abilities: Feyform Aspect, Shifter Hooves, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Track, Woodland Stride, Fey Shape, Trackless Step, Shifter’s Fury, Fey Shifter


	7. The Waterbois Visit Their Local Library

The halls below were dark and barren--definitely more "dungeon" than "temple." But they and their doorways were larger than expected, easily reaching 15ft feet. They were also infested with mummified Groetan cultists.

The Waterbois dispatched the undead easily, but the constant tide of mummies considerably slowed their progress. All the while, both Caxi and Zhenzhu felt the skin-prickling sensation of being watched. Their best guess, shared through telepathy, was that the dungeon boss was scrying on them.

If so, it wasn't like they had the magic to prevent it. And heck, they had nothing to hide. If not, at least one minion had to be running reports to the boss--maybe even some security magic in the temple itself.

The horse and the merfolk stopped stock still before the doorway at the current hall's end. The room before them was huge, a temple in and of itself.

Gusts of air flowed from a row of holes carved into the wall. The holes were evenly spaced 10ft off the floor. Each was fitted with a large copper pipe. 

The room’s support columns were densely carved with symbols akin to musical notation marks and images of birds. They'd been smeared with orange slime along with the walls.

"What the heck is that stuff?" asked the horse, fearing the worst. Qlippoth poop.

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Knowledge Planes]  
[Knowledge insufficient]

All Caxi knew was that it came from a planar outsider. Like a qlippoth. "Oh god, it's poop, isn't it? No wonder the mummy cultists are so pissed."

"I dare you to touch it," said Zhenzhu, grinning evilly in the light of Caxi's torch they were holding.

"No way! That's disgusting and probably booby trapped."

"If you do it, I'll owe you a dare."

"Hmph. Fine. If I touch it, you have to lick it."

"Sure. You're on, CLEANER."

Caxi tossed her mane. She trotted, slowly, into the drafty, bird-y, song-y--oh. This had to be the Windsong room. And those drafts were blowing around a real rancid stink. Coming from the orange slime.

The horse shed a disgusted tear. Then stopped. If the orange slime belonged to a qlippoth, then--

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Perception]

Oh yeah, she caught sight of a giant, hideous gray monster like an octopus with a fanged maw dripping orange slime for a belly. And a single, massive, unblinking eye on a stalk.

“UGH!” neighed Caxi, shuddering in revulsion. “Qlippoth alert!”

“GAH! My eyes!” The torch and ranseur clattered from Zhenzhu’s hands. Which they’d clapped to either side of their head in abject, paralyzing disgust.

“Zhenzhu! Move!” cried the horse, trying to cut the qlippoth off with an attack.

“I CAN’T!”

The flash of a red, hooded cloak trimmed in black from behind the merfolk wasn’t helping. Sure, that Setra pathfinder that Caszir had told her about could be a friendly, but then why would she’ve stayed hidden until now? “Behind you!”

When Zhenzhu was incapable of even turning around. Things couldn’t get any worse.

The pathfinder dropped her hood. There was no elf alive packing snakes for hair. The statues/petrified people in the bath house instantly made a lot more sense.

[Fey Aspect activated]

Caxi and the medusa locked eyes. With the Cleaner’s boosted defenses, the horse blinked through her petrifying gaze. The eye contact lasted only a second.

The qlippoth’s tentacles slammed into the horse, trying to whack them into its horrifically fanged and orange-slimed maw. Caxi roared and reared up. They snapped, chomped, and stamped onto the monster--sparing a lightning-fast glance back.

The medusa had her hands on either side of the paralyzed merfolk’s head, on top of Zhenzhu’s own hands. “Setra” activated her paralyzing gaze. Zhenzhu couldn’t look away. They couldn’t even blink.

The Cleaner could no longer spare a glance from the attacking qlippoth. They didn’t have to. A stony silence cut off their telepathy.

“Zhenzhu!” Caxi screamed. To themself. Dodging and bounding over tentacles, the horse bulldozed straight into the qlippoth’s huge, stalked eye. They bit, kicked, and ripped.

The eyestalk tore free of the maw. The qlippoth’s tentacles flailed as its octopoid body deflated, orange slime erupting out from its weakening maw.

Caxi spun around toward the medusa. Apparently out of her invisibility, she’d just flat-out run back down the hall. The Cleaner snorted and galloped after her.

Fool. No magic-less biped could outrun a speed-improved horse.

Sure enough, the Cleaner was hot on her heels in seconds. He reared up and leaped right onto the medusa’s back.

“Mestama!” she hissed. Black, negative energy blasted out from her in all directions.

In his horsepowered fury, Caxi shook off the blast like wimpy fart and chomped down onto her snake-wreathed head. He ripped half the wriggling snakes right off her scalp.

The medusa shrieked in pain. “Mestama!”

She tried blasting the horse off her back and spun around with a frost-marked punching dagger aimed up for the stallion’s underjaw.

Only the Cleaner wasn’t blasted away. She spun her head right into his chomping teeth. Her stabbing hand fell limp to her side.

“Come on, come on, come on,” said Caxi, searching her corpse. The chances of a medusa accidentally petrifying someone or wanting a petrified person to change back seemed fairly high. Surely she had some kinda--he pulled a glass vial of elixir from her pocket. “Is this what I think it is?”

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Knowledge Arcana]

Oh yes. A dose applied to a petrified creature restored them to flesh as per the stone to flesh spell. Only...there was only one dose.

The horse blew out a long sigh. The fact of the matter was, she knew Zhenzhu. Together, they were the Waterbois, and they already had hours of combat bonding between them. Zhenzhu was a friend. Caszir daughter, as undeserving of her fate as she probably was, was a stranger. “Sorry, Caszir’s daughter.” 

Caxi searched ‘Setra’ for the rest of her loot before clip-clopping back. She found enchanted chainmail, that frosty punching dagger, a very fancy necklace, and two items of interest. One was a gold medallion imprinted with an eye on three sharp stones. The other was a key with a head shaped like a bloated, skull-faced moon.

“What am I looking at here?”

[Skill rank earned: Knowledge Religion increased by +1]

The gold medallion bore the unholy symbol of Mestama, the Mother of Witches, the demon lord patron of witches, hags, and vengeful widows. She appeared as an ancient, withered crone with sunken, monstrous features. Her worshippers were known for practicing arts of deception to aid their cruelties.

As for the key, it was the actual, hecking doomsday key that opened this dungeon’s doomsday doors. Also, if worn around the neck, it gave a +4 resistance against curses. “Yeah, that's definitely going back to Caszir.”

As for the unholy symbol, the Cleaner stamped it underhoof until it was just a trampled golden plate. “Huh, it IS gold. Is this still worth something?”

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Appraise]

Yes! Despite the dirt, the flattened plate was still made from a precious metal. In its current state, it was worth 230 gp.

After a quick, healing snack of snake meat--no, who was she kidding, she’d just eaten a formerly sentient creature--medusa meat, the horse returned to the petrified merfolk in the Windsong room. Though her clip-clops were sharp, her head was heavy with plodding thoughts.

Caxi took the vial in their mouth and emptied it on top of Zhenzhu’s head. As the oily elixir dripped down the statue, the merfolk’s color returned first. There was a palpable glow of warmth. The stone melded away into the proper textures.

“Oof, thanks. That was embarrassing,” said Zhenzhu, cricking their neck on each side.

“Whoa, were you conscious the whole time?” Caxi asked through their newly restored telepathic bond.

“Huh? No, I was talking about me--big bad merfolk barbarian taken down in two gaze attacks.”

“Everybody’s got bad days. Heck, I was run out of here by redcaps with crossbows the first time I was here. Forget it--I got bigger news.” They told Zhenzhu about finding the hecking doomsday key on ‘Setra,’ second in command of the pathfinder team, who also turned out to be a disguised medusa cleric of an evil, deceptive demon lord.

“Wait, so are you saying...the pathfinders were evil from the start?”

“Maybe. Or maybe they were infiltrated by the medusa--”

“And that’s why the dungeon went to s--t! Oh, duh! They didn’t fail--they were sabotaged by someone who wanted all this chaos. Yeah, this was all some unholy sacrifice to Mestama or something.”

“Maybe. Probably, but maybe.”

“Mystery solved. That just leaves one question.”

“What?”

“Did you touch the orange stuff?” Zhenzhu grinned.

Caxi, caught off guard, whinnied and laughed. “Yeah, yeah--but don’t lick it. It’s gut acid and definitely poisonous.”

“Fine, then I owe you a dare.”

“You’re on!”

Only...the next room the Waterbois found wasn’t a great place for dares. It was a huge, underground library. Fine wooden planks lined the room from floor to ceiling. Bookcases packed full of leather-bound tomes lined the walls. A large rectangular table surrounded by elegantly cushioned wooden chairs formed a cozy reading nook.

The horse’s eyes widened. “I got an idea. Can you help me look for a book of fey?”

“Sure, why?” asked Zhenzhu, already moving toward the nearest shelf.

“Because--”

A tall, lanky humanoid dressed in a long, dark coat and tophat materialized in front of the Cleaner. “Pardon me, Mx. Merfolk, but there are no steeds permitted in my library, no matter how noble.”

Zhenzhu spun around. “Who are you?”

“I’m the Librarian--a librarian, while I was alive. Now in death I find myself the library’s guardian spirit.”

“Play it cool--paleboi’s lying,” said Caxi via telepathy. “They’re a fey, a bogeyman, but they’re not onto us yet.”

The merfolk cleared their throat. “Uh, ok. Cleaner, sit. Stay.”

Oh dear god. She was a horse, not a dog. But she couldn't blow cover now. Caxi sat, dog-like on her haunches.

The bogeyman, the real Nik Knokken, fixed both of them with a quizzical look. "Well, I'm glad to see you've taught your horse a few...tricks--it's certainly more well-behaved than our recent intruders. Now, how can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a book about fey."

"Fey?" the bogeyman repeated quietly.

"Uh, yes. Like those redcaps. I'm from underwater. We don't have those there. They're really interesting."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't have found those underwater. Wait here a moment." The bogeyman vanished.

"You think they bought it?" Zhenzhu asked inside their mind.

"No idea, but if they bring back a book, just stow it away for later."

Nik Knokken did, in fact, return with a book in hand. "I hope you can read Thassilonian."

"I'll, uh, find a translator. Thanks." The merfolk vanished the book into their inventory.

The fey's eyes widened. "Are you, perchance, a pathfinder?"

"For fu--yeeeah. Yep, that's why I'm here--saw an overrun dungeon while I was taking the Cleaner for a ride and came to investigate."

“And your teammates?”

“Just me and my horse. I haven’t had a chance to report back to the ol’ headquarters yet.”

“Excellent.” The bogeyman spread their arms. The eye patches lining their coat twitched and blinked to life. A parade of distorted, soap bubble images rolled out in front of the Waterbois.

Caxi saw every member of their family back home in the ICU, separated. The doctor, wearing the president’s face, shook their head with mocking gravity. There were no ventilators.

A distorted Caxi cried and slammed their fists at the mock doctor. Their fists thudded against the solid wall of their apartment--windowless and doorless. They were locked in and completely isolated from their family, now isolated in death.

Then they died. Caxi was forced to live. Alone. Forever. And permanently, internally wrecked by the virus. Every waking moment was a burning, stabbing attack in their lungs.

Blood dripped from the Cleaner’s lips. Wait. That was real pain in their chest. Caxi blinked.

The bogeyman, guise thoroughly discarded, laughed and danced between horse and merfolk. They twirled and ripped deep, bloody gouges between Zhenzhu’s neck and shoulder. The fey spun back toward Caxi.

The Cleaner bite off their clawed, bloody hand. Nik Knokken screamed. The horse bit again, chomping into their throat. The fey gurgled instead.

The Cleaner reared up with a furious whinny. They slammed down their hooves. The false librarian’s hat went rolling through the bookshelves.

[Level up]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the Cleaner, kelpie feyform shifter 16]  
> Neutral medium fey (aquatic, shapechanger)  
> Initiative: +9  
> Senses: low-light vision, Perception +14
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 27 (+5 Dex, +4 natural armor, +7 defensive instinct, dodge +1)  
> HP: 208  
> Fortitude: +14  
> Reflex: +16  
> Will: +9  
> Misc: resist 10 fire
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 55ft, swim 55ft  
> Melee: 2 shifter claws, shifter hoof, shifter bite  
> Ranged: sling  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 20  
> Dexterity: 20  
> Constitution: 16  
> Intelligence: 11  
> Wisdom: 16  
> Charisma: 19
> 
> Skills:  
> Appraise +3, Knowledge Nature +8, Linguistics +1, Perception +14, Knowledge Arcana +2, Knowledge Religion +4, Sense Motive +8, Disguise +11, Bluff +11, Knowledge Local +1, Knowledge Geography +1, Knowledge Planes +2, Swim +14, Survival +7
> 
> Racial feats: Alertness, Deceitful, Fey Nature, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats:  
> Power Attack, Shifter's Edge, Dodge, Rending Hooves, Vital Strike, Improved Vital Strike, Devastating Strike
> 
> Class bonus feats (horse aspect): Endurance, Run
> 
> Languages: Aquan, Common, Druidic, Sylvan, telepathy (1 mile, previously touched creatures only), Thassilonian
> 
> Combat gear: +1 cloak of resistance  
> Other gear: 3005 gp, flint and steel, torches (9), adventuring gear, loot
> 
> Special qualities: amphibious, change shape (Small/Medium humanoid, horse, hippocampus)
> 
> Class abilities: Feyform Aspect, Shifter Hooves, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Track, Woodland Stride, Fey Shape, Trackless Step, Shifter’s Fury, Fey Shifter


	8. The Waterbois Play with Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caxi's stats are given as a horse below, seeing as that's his/her/their preferred form of dungeon butt-kicker. 
> 
> As a horse, Caxi shifts between mare/stallion/horse interchangeably

With the bogeyman down, the Waterbois could finally catch their shaking breath and let their pulses steady.

“You okay?” the horse and merfolk asked at the same time. They chuckled, simultaneously and shakily.

They were fine for the time being, but the horror that the fey had brought to life before them was still freshly sealed into their brains. Here, now, halfway through a dungeon, was just not a good time to unpack all that.

Zhenzhu pulled the library book from their inventory and held it out to Caxi. “I’m guessing there’s no due date.”

The horse grinned and shifted into his naiad guise to take it. “Hopefully not.” Because there was no way he had time to read the whole dang compendium.

“So what’d you want that book for?”

“I’m a feyform shifter, remember? The more fey I know, the more shapes I can take for combat or scouting or whatever.”

“Nice! You do that. I’m just gonna eat up and then search this place for loot.”

“Actually, I better get a bite, too.”

After a very early breakfast of bogeyman, Zhenzhu went treasure hunting while Caxi settled in the reading nook with his new book. He could only flip through at the moment, but three fey immediately caught his eye.

The first was the ankou, a giant-sized skeletal alien. It was cloaked by wings of smoky darkness and seemed to burn with black flame from within.

[Ankous are assassins for powerful fey nobles. They are typically dispatched to kill, terrify, or torture. They never speak, only telepathically whisper their lord's verdict to victims.]

The second was the tunche, a huge, three-legged monstrosity. It was a chimeric mix of jungle animals and plants fused into a single, deadly predator.

[The tunche is a bizarre forest creature with twisted feline legs, a dense body resembling jungle undergrowth, clawed arms like those of a praying mantis, and a head resembling a cross between a monstrous spider's head and a jungle orchid. Although it has plant and animal features, a tunche is neither plant nor animal and is immune to effects that specifically target such creatures. Considering itself the ultimate protector of the jungle, a tunche prowls its domain in search of any who might despoil this vibrant and lush environment.]

The last was the whisperer. The incorporeal fey’s luminous shape stood at twice the height of a humanoid. A pale, eerie light took the place of its face.

[The whisperers are fey in the most otherworldly and alien way possible. They lay claim to pristine tracks of wilderness. A whisperer’s domain is nearly as hostile to intruders as the whisperer itself. Lethal hazards, inexplicable accidents, and eerie happenings are common in its primeval landscape, as are haunts formed by its ill-fated trespassers. Plant creatures and animals attack viciously, and even “ordinary” plants seem hostile to intruders.]

“Ooo, yes, big yes.”

[Skill ranks earned: Knowledge Planes and Knowledge Nature increased by +1]  
[Ankou, tunche, and whisperer added to Fey Shape]

Caxi leapt to her feet, buzzing with excitement. She couldn’t wait for the first chance to bust out these bad bois. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t even tried the arctic ijiraq or the water-based rusalka she’d learned the first time she’d looked for shapes. Ah, well--all in good time.

And now was time to get back to Zhenzhu. “Hey! I’m done here for now. Did you find anything?”

“Yep,” said Zhenzhu, slithering over with scrolls tucked under one arm and a leather-bound tome tucked under the other. “These were hidden in the wall.”

The merfolk set the book down on the table and pulled three of the four scrolls out from under their arm. “These are magic. Can you read magic?”

“I can’t, but maybe one of my fey forms can.”

“Cool.” They set the three scrolls down and waved the other one around. “This one and the book are just written in some other language--I don’t know which, and I already put my skill ranks into Perception and Intimidate.”

“Hold up, you get to choose where to put your skill ranks?”

“Yeah. You still on default settings?”

“Dang it!” Caxi opened up their menu. Indeed, their feat and skills were set to ‘organic,’ meaning the game picked them based on the Cleaner’s in-game choices. “Huh.”

Caxi liked that, actually. It was less hassle to deal with as they levelled up, and it just made sense. ‘Organic’ as the game said.

They shrugged and picked up the foreign scroll.

[Skill rank earned: Linguistics increased by +1]  
[Language learned: Abyssal]

Written in Abyssal, language of demons of the Abyss, contained the writer’s personal theory that undeath was the next natural step in the soul’s progression toward the Great Beyond. The Great Beyond being the realities beyond Golarion’s realities--the domains of the gods, domains of powers equal to the gods, and wholly alien beings who were not yet known.

“Why’s that important?”

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Knowledge Religion]

Because it was a blasphemy of the teachings of Pharasma, the goddess who shepherded the souls of the recently departed to their final reward. According to the Mother of Souls herself, undeath was a mockery of the process of life, death, and rebirth. Thus, the undead were monsters to be released from the evil that trapped them in this world through cleansing death.

“So, what? Someone was down here trying to start their own religion?” asked Zhenzhu.

“Honestly, no idea, but I’m probably gonna eat that scroll.”

Caxi took a look at the book next. It was handwritten, also in Abyssal, and titled ‘The Secrets of Blackfire.’ It was dense, dense stuff. From what he skimmed off the top, it concerned the manipulation and refocusing of magical portals as penned by multiple but nameless Blackfire Adepts.

[Skill rank earned: Knowledge Planes increased by +1]

[Where the borders between planes are thin, reality itself burns with an ebony flame known as blackfire. The Blackfire Adepts are a group of loosely associated arcane explorers, mystics, and demonologists taking their name from the phenomenon. They journey through the many planes of the Great Beyond to acquire dark powers from otherworldly entities.]

Their book contained instructions for a ritual that could refocus any established extraplanar portal to connect to a new location. The ritual required only one person to perform it, but the ritual could take weeks. During the performance, the person had to retain consciousness—-sleep was forbidden, lest the energies “be unleashed in a most unfortunate manner.” 

“Like, together, this seems pretty bad,” said the merfolk.

“Yeah, and we haven’t even checked out the spells yet.”

“How about I eat the scroll, you eat the book?”

“Heck yeah! Waterbois hashtag for life! Lemme just check these spells. Okay, game. Which of my fey shapes can read magic?” 

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Spellcraft]  
[Spellcraft insufficient]

The answer was complicated. Although the Cleaner didn’t have a high enough Spellcraft to identify magic spells, some fey had the magic to do so without a high Spellcraft skill. Except that all those magic abilities were locked from Caxi’s use because she didn’t know those spells.

“You mean my fey have more magic abilities that I just can’t use?”

Spell-like abilities, they were called. And yes, that was the case, dang it. It was enough to make Caxi wish they could try a new game plus as a caster.

All they could do was sigh and shift back into their horsey main. “It’s a no-go. We better just eat all of this.”

“Way ahead o’ ya,” said Zhenzhu, their cheeks stuffed with gummy scroll parchment.

Having disposed of the library’s hazardous materials, the Waterbois slithered and trotted back into the mummy-infested halls of the Temple of Doomsday. After reading those recently penned views on undeath, Caxi couldn't help wondering if some of these had been turned from the abbey's monks. There'd been no sign of acolyte nor cleric, after all.

His train of thought completely derailed at the sight of the next room. It was a lounge. A magically preserved lounge in the ancient underground temple dungeon of doomsday.

There was a cushioned wooden bench, wall-mounted glass cabinets, a round table with matching chairs, and a large bulky chest. The table, however, had been recently fitted with straps to restrain a nearly naked human man with skin as white as a lace doily. He/they were covered with numerous shallow cuts and ugly purple bruises.

He was surrounded by four equally, shockingly white humanoids covered with piercings, tattoos, and scars. They immediately looked up at the awkwardly frozen Waterbois just outside the doorway. Their eyes were solid white. Their metal-pierced smiles were more alarming than comforting.

“Come in, join us. Come in, join us,” they said. Via telepathy.

The horse and the merfolk nodded at each other without taking their eyes off whatever slippery fresh horror this was. They whinnied, roared, and charged into battle.

The torture team flew up under the ceiling. They launched spells to confuse and conjure the horrors of the Waterbois’ subconscious to kill them. But after the sanity assaults of the qlippoths and the bout of corona terror with the bogeyman, these dudes were offering up the shoddiest of knock-offs.

Zhenzhu and the Cleaner shrugged them off. Activating their rage and fey aspect, the two flew up after the torture team, ranseur and teeth at the ready. The four humanoids were not ready.

In their defense, they stopped trying to spellcast as soon as the Waterbois closed the distance. The two remaining in the next round attacked with an incorporeal touch, their arms briefly passing through the horse’s kicking hooves and the merfolk’s ranseur.

Caxi and Zhenzhu were blasted with negative energy from the inside out. AND nightmares tried to creep up on them from the back of their brains, but their wills were just too boosted or raging to put up with that mess. They stamped down the rising horrors and laid waste to the monsters in the same round.

“My dreams!” a voice screamed from the lounge doorway. This time, it was a human. The new contender was another spellcaster, immediately surrounding themself with shadow clones or whatever mirror images were called in this game.

“Lemme handle this,” said the merfolk with a dashing wink. They flew down right into the middle of all the clones and spun into a whirlwind attack with their ranseur. They hit every, single, one--exploding all the clones into harmless, figment shards.

“DAAANG!” said Caxi. Then the Cleaner went in for the kill. As expected, the undefended spellcaster was extremely squishy.

[Fey Aspect deactivated]

Battle over, they freed the prisoner (though they remained unconscious), and looted the boss of the torturers. The spellcaster was carrying four indecipherable magic scrolls but also two magic wands.

“Do you need to know magic to use a magic wand?” asked Caxi.

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Use Magic Device]

The answer was a resounding no. All one needed was the Use Magic Device skill. However, a failed Use Magic Device check could have “unintended consequences.”

“Just point it out into the hall,” suggested Zhenzhu.

“Okie-doke.” Caxi waved the first wand between her teeth in a slow circle and then flicked it hard toward the hall. “Ma-gi’!”

A 40ft diameter fireball exploded right out from the horse’s mouth. Caxi and Zhenzhu screamed. Everything went up in flames, including themselves and the poor, hapless prisoner.

The horse dropped the wand and ran to the prisoner’s side. She threw them onto her back. “Zhenzhu! Hop on!”

Despite hacking on smoke, the powerful merfolk leapt on with ease. The Cleaner galloped at full, neck-breaking speed outside the blast radius. The gusting wind knocked the flames off their bodies.

The horse pulled safely up to a stop. Zhenzhu, releasing their hands from a crushing hold around the Cleaner’s neck, and dumped mounds of kelp monster balls from their inventory. The prisoner’s charred corpse just kinda fell off Caxi.

Oof. Yike. There was really nothing to say that could make this fiasco any less bad.

“Don’t think, just eat,” said Zhenzhu, relentlessly chowing down themself.

“Sorry, sorry,” Caxi neighed quietly between bites. Tears rolled down her soot-caked, horsen cheeks.

The Cleaner ate, but Caxi couldn’t stop thinking. Accidentally killing a friendly happened all the time in games. It’d just never felt so real. The fact of the matter was, she hadn’t just manslaughtered an innocent--she could’ve killed herself or Zhenzhu if that spell had been any more powerful.

Caxi made up their mind right then and there. "That's it--I'm through messing with magic."

As a shifter with next to zero knowledge of magic anyway. Because their next, equally big regret was having zero means of undoing what they'd done to the prisoner. A magic healer could've identified that stupid wand. A magic healer would've known what to do.

"Cool, so we're destroying the scrolls and wands?" asked the merfolk. Their chill in the face of this absolute s--tshow was stupefying.

It took the horse several stunned blinks before they could work their telepathy again. "Yes. Yes, Zhenzhu."

Better safe than--Caxi shook like a leaf. They snorted and chortled in semi-manic horsen laughter. The tears kept on rolling.

The merfolk patted their shoulder. "Cleaner, my dude, I think we need to rest."

"Not in the lounge."

"No, no f--ing way. How 'bout the library?"

A 'before' place. That, Caxi could do. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the Cleaner, horse (kelpie) feyform shifter 16]  
> Neutral large fey (aquatic, shapechanger)  
> Initiative: +8  
> Senses: low-light vision, Perception +17
> 
> [Defense (as horsey main)]  
> AC: 32 (+4 Dex, +10 natural armor, +7 defensive instinct, dodge +1)  
> HP: 224  
> Fortitude: +15  
> Reflex: +15  
> Will: +9  
> Misc: resist 10 fire
> 
> [Offense (as horsey main)]  
> Speed: 65ft  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite +24/+19/+4/+9 (4d6+12, primary), 2 rending hooves +24 (1d6, secondary)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Statistics (as horsey main)]  
> Strength: 26  
> Dexterity: 18  
> Constitution: 18  
> Intelligence: 11  
> Wisdom: 16  
> Charisma: 19
> 
> Skills:  
> Appraise +3, Knowledge Nature +9, Linguistics +2, Perception +17, Knowledge Arcana +2, Knowledge Religion +5, Sense Motive +11, Disguise +11, Bluff +11, Knowledge Local +1, Knowledge Geography +1, Knowledge Planes +4, Swim +20, Survival +10, Spellcraft +1, Use Magic Device +5
> 
> Racial feats: Alertness, Deceitful, Fey Nature, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats:  
> Power Attack, Shifter's Edge, Dodge, Rending Hooves, Vital Strike, Improved Vital Strike, Devastating Strike
> 
> Class bonus feats: Endurance, Run
> 
> Languages: Aquan, Common, Druidic, Sylvan, telepathy (1 mile, previously touched creatures only), Thassilonian, Abyssal
> 
> Combat gear: +1 cloak of resistance  
> Other gear: 3005 gp, flint and steel, torches (7), adventuring gear, compendium of fey, loot
> 
> Special qualities: amphibious, change shape (Small/Medium humanoid, horse, hippocampus)
> 
> Class abilities: Feyform Aspect, Shifter Hooves, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Track, Woodland Stride, Fey Shape, Trackless Step, Shifter’s Fury, Fey Shifter


	9. The Waterbois Get the Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the tea. Is. Juicy.

Nothing like an artificially-induced, eight hour block of solid sleep to make a person feel marginally but demonstrably better. Caxi was genuinely grateful--he’d never have gotten eight hours after that-which-was-not-to-be-unpacked back home.

Unfortunately, the Waterbois had to pass by the burnt out lounge to get to the rest of the dungeon. There was just no getting around it. So the horse kept his head forward, imaginary blinders donned, while the merfolk looted through the ashes.

Zhenzhu returned freshly covered in soot and reeking of smoke. “Oof, sorry.” 

They wiped themself down with a cloak they’d found in the chest. It was embroidered with images of falling stars and the phases of the moon but was otherwise deceptively normal-looking.

[Skill rank earned: Spellcraft increased by +1]

Whew, safe. “That’s a cloak of displacement. You’ll be like 20% harder to hit.”

“Yeahhh boi!” The merfolk threw the dirty cloak onto their shoulders. “Oh, hey--you should take this headband. I’ve already got one.”

[Skill rank earned: Spellcraft increased by +1]

It was a headband of mental prowess. Wearing it for 24 hours boosted the user’s Intelligence and Wisdom by +2. After 24 hours, the bonus became permanently integrated.

“Sweet, thanks. Can you help me put it on?”

“Sure, dude.” Zhenzhu fitted the circular, copper band over the Cleaner’s ears. It magically resized to set its eye-like yellow gemstone over the horse’s brow. “Stylin’.”

The Waterbois were just about to leave that god(s)-forsaken lounge behind when the merfolk stopped. “I almost forgot--I don’t know if these are important or not, but I found one on the last spellcaster and one in the chest.”

Mentally stylin’ indeed. Caxi instantly recognized the circular discs as holy or unholy symbols. 

[Skill rank earned: Knowledge Religion increased by +1]

The spellcaster’s depicted a mask, bilaterally divided into a black side and a white side. It was the symbol of Nethys, the All-Seeing Eye. He/they were an ethnically Garundi god of magic who held magic above all things, pursuing power until it drove them insane. But because his alignment was solidly neutral, his symbol could be used as a holy or unholy symbol.

The symbol in the chest, presumably the prisoner’s, depicted a skull crying chains from its eyes. It was the decidedly unholy symbol of Zon-Kuthon, the Prince of Pain. The sadomasochistic god was banished by other gods to the Plane of Shadow and should have disappeared into obscurity, but somehow became the patron god of the entire nation of Nidal just south of the lands of Varisia.

Undoubtedly thanks to the headband, Caxi recalled that Windsong’s cleric of Nethys was named Zerim and cleric of Zon-Kuthon was named Geika. Now they were both dead, oof.

“We should take those back to Caszir.”

Zhenzhu, catching the sober vibes in Caxi’s telepathy, returned them to their inventory without a word. 

Two down meant there was only one cleric left that the Waterbois could possibly rescue: Nillitu, cleric of Erastil. The horse set their jaw. They weren’t gonna screw this up. Unless Nillitu also attacked them. “Huh. I wonder why those two had a falling out.”

“Who knows,” said Zhenzhu. Their shrug said 'who cared?'

Caxi cared, that was who. And even the constant onslaught of Groetan mummies couldn’t derail their guilt-ridden obsession over it. Because if they could come up with a justification for it, even after the fact, they could wash their hooves and mouth clean of that smoke.

Their personal favorite theory was that Zerim hadn’t turned against Geika, but that both clerics had defected to Setra’s side. They would’ve had different reasons, of course. Zerim did it because the medusa had offered him the Blackfire Adepts’ portal knowledge. Geika did it because...Zon-Kuthon was evil and down with the killing.

So when the Waterbois found them, that wasn’t Geika being tortured against his will. That was Geika getting his ally-in-evil Zerim to torment him in his dreams for the sadomasochistic glory of the Prince of Pain. 

It made enough sense to take the edge off Caxi’s frayed nerves, so they were taking it as tea. As best as they could. While fingers snapped in the corner of their vision.

“--er, hey, Cleaner, where’d you go?”

The horse shook their head. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

Zhenzhu jerked their head toward the doorway up ahead. Metal prison bars glinted at the edge of the torch’s light.

“Right, sorry. Oh, hey, that gives me an idea. Want me to scout ahead?”

“No offense, but there’s an echo and your hooves go clippity-cloppity.”

“Yeah, but my bogeyman’s real sneaky.”

“Right, you’re a shifter! Dunno why I keep forgetting that. Ok, yeah, do the bogeyman.”

[Fey Shape activated: bogeyman]

The tophatted fey was indeed super stealthy. Caxi crept as silent as a ghost into the prison. All the cells were empty except for one. It contained a starving, ragged senior citizen with angry welts and scars all over his/her/their wrinkled brown skin.

There were also two behemoth-like guards on high alert. The giant, lumbering, gorilla-like monsters had twisted horns, blood-red fur, and a hideously fanged mouth in the center of their chests.

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Knowledge Planes]

These creatures were baregara, kind of a proto-demon. They were native to the Abyss and thus packing serious defenses. They had high damage reduction, high resistances, and were immune to electricity (as well as poison). Worse, they were highly intelligent and could use magic to conjure allies.

Horse biscuits. Caxi communicated his findings telepathically.

“I still say we charge in there unless you got a better idea.”

“I just might. The baregara are probs gonna summon four girallons--they’re like four-armed, white-furred gorillas but not immune to electricity.”

“Crowd control, gotcha. You ready?”

“On your mark.”

“Get set--go!” The merfolk ditched the torch and charged in with a roar.

At first sound, the baregara’s did indeed summon four girallons between them and the intruder. The one intruder they’d detected.

[Fey Shape: whisperer]

The Cleaner turned to incorporeal, glowing mist behind the baregaras. She expanded upward into an indistinct but looming humanoid shape. Utterly silent, her proto-demon target never noticed the six tendrils of mist reaching out from her chest area until their cursed touch had already seeped past its defenses.

The baregara shrieked in pain, causing both to turn. One monster bit and clawed and gored at with its horns. But its foe was incorporeal. Even those attacks that made it through the fey’s (un)godly defenses only did half damage.

The other, noting its ally’s failure, leaped back and cast a smiting, unholy blight upon the Cleaner. The whisperer’s own spell resistance flipped that spell dead on arrival. Excellent.

Zhenzhu went in for the kill on the wounded baregara. Caxi reached her cursed tendrils out at the other. The battle was over. Better yet, the cowering prisoner was still alive.

[Level up: Feyform Shifter 17]  
[Shifter Claws improved: critical multiplier increased to x3]

[Feat unlocked: Greater Vital Strike]

[Fey Shape deactivated]

Caxi shifted from whisperer to her naiad disguise to light up a torch in the pitch-black cell. The elderly, human prisoner was still cowering in his corner.

“Hold on! We’ll get you out.”

The senior citizen raised her shaggy head only to shake it. “Anatu used stone shape on the door. You’d have to smash it to--”

Zhenzhu went crashing into the cell wall. The metal screeched and buckled under the barbarian’s newly tireless raging strength. The door popped up with an ear-grating squeak. “Done.”

Caxi ducked their head and climbed into the cell to offer the surviving prisoner their arm. 

Their elder wiped her watering black eyes. She took it with a trembling hand and wobbly smile. “Thank you. Thank you. Erastil be praised.”

“Are you Nillitu, cleric of Erastil?” asked Caxi.

“Ex-cleric, I’m afraid,” said the senior with a half-laugh, half-cry.

“Don’t worry about that now. Can I offer you some trail rations? Canteen water?”

Nillitu could only nod at that point, tears flowing freely. The Waterbois made the old ex-cleric as comfortable as they could in the prison office. They ate Zhenzhu’s kelp balls while Nillitu ate Caxi’s trail rations. Neither dared to eat the fresh demon meat in front of the elderly human NPC.

“Are you two pathfinders?” Nillitu asked once she’d finished and settled down.

“No,” Caxi answered hastily. “I’m a friend of Caszir’s.”

“Caszir-Caszir’s still--”

“Still alive, yes.”

“Oh thank Erastil, thank Erastil.”

“Sure, thanks Erastil,” said Zhenzhu.

“You mentioned that Anatu locked you up. Can you tell us about that?”

Nillitu nodded soberly. “I-I’ll tell you everything I know--it’s the least I can do to help.”

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Knowledge Local]

They started at the beginning. The very beginning. Back when the young elf Anatu was an acolyte at Windsong. The orphan monk had little aptitude for religion and drifted from worship of one god to the next like sampling from a buffet without ever getting full.

It was Caszir who recommended to the Head Abbot to let Anatu leave the abbey. The Desnan cleric argued that the young elf would never find his own path, any path, if he remained in the sheltered cloister of Windsong. Anatu, however, didn’t want to leave.

Nillitu, a fellow child acolyte at the time, understood his feelings. Or thought they did. They believed the elf to be afraid of the unknown and devastatingly hurt that the people who’d taken him in now wanted to kick him out for “not being good enough.”

But the Head Abbot had made his decision. Anatu was cast out. Nillitu lost track of him until he reappeared nearly a hundred years later missing one eye and in the company of the pathfinders. When the ex-cleric finally did learn what had transpired during that time, it was far, far too late.

The abandoned elf had been found and taken in by a cult of Yamasoth, the Polymorph Plague, the qlippoth lord whose experiments gave birth to the demons of the Abyss. Anatu found himself as a cult cleric of Yamasoth. He was more than happy to practice his new, secret faith in the shadows.

But he became “enlightened” after a run-in with Setra and her pathfinders. 

“That was where I had a hard time following Anatu’s story,” said Nillitu. “He got real rambly--in Abyssal, too, which I don’t speak. He kept whispering more that weird metal shard in his hand than to me. My best guess is it’s a cursed item--probably planted on him by Setra so she could control him.”

“Great--she’s dead,” said Zhenzhu.

The ex-cleric opened their mouth. Then closed it. Opened it.

“Maybe we just get back to the story and deal with that part later,” suggested Caxi.

Nillitu nodded and continued. Between the two of them, Setra and Anatu, it came to light that the elf knew the location of a set of doomsday doors--right here under Windsong. The medusa cleric of Mestama wanted the doors for the fell purpose of her own god. She convinced Anatu, probably with the help of the cursed item, that refocusing the doors to open to Sekatar-Seraktis, home of Yamasoth, would be a move of clerical genius.

So Anatu, the more powerful of the two cult clerics, used his connection with Yamasoth to divine the location of Windsong’s doomsday key. He joined the pathfinders to help plunder it from some dungeon, and then the victorious team came to Windsong.

“And that’s when s--t hit the fan,” said the merfolk.

“Indeed,” said Nillitu. “Our Head Abbot and acolytes were slaughtered. We clerics were captured, all but Caszir. We were given a choice--use our restorative powers on Anatu as he performed the refocusing ritual or become sacrifices to whatever came through that door.

“The way Setra said it…,” the ex-cleric shook his head. “I don’t think her true plan was to let Anatu go through with it. I think opening the door anywhere in the Abyss was just a trial run. I tried to convince Anatu that she was planning to betray him, but he wouldn’t hear it from me, another Windsong cleric.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” said Caxi, “but with Setra dead, that means Anatu really will get that door focused on Yamasoth unless we stop him.”

“You can’t let that happen! You have to stop him! If the Polymorph Plague gets a foothold in this world, this world is truly over!” Nillitu shook as he tried to rise, spraying spittle.

The merfolk clapped a reassuring but firm hand on the ex-cleric’s shoulder, putting him back down in his seat. “You can count on the Waterbois. Just stay here. You’ve been starving in a prison for however long AND you’re an ex-cleric. Don’t tell me you really think you can help us.”

“I--I--y-yes, you’re right. I can’t help. But I know where there’s a stash of scrolls--”

“No!” said Caxi. “I mean, no, thank you. We’ll handle it our way. You’ve been plenty of help already.”

Nillitu gave them a weary nod and smile. “Before you go, you didn’t happen to see Geika did you?”

Caxi’s throat closed up with a painful lump. His vision blurred with hot, prickling tears. It was Zhenzhu who jostled him to his feet.

“Sorry, didn’t see him,” lied the merfolk.

Caxi shifted back into a horse, head out the door, before he had to see the ex-cleric’s sad, resigned nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the Cleaner, horse (kelpie) feyform shifter 17]  
> Neutral large fey (aquatic, shapechanger)  
> Initiative: +8  
> Senses: low-light vision, Perception +17
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 32 (+4 Dex, +10 natural armor, +7 defensive instinct, dodge +1)  
> HP: 238  
> Fortitude: +15  
> Reflex: +15  
> Will: +9  
> Misc: resist 10 fire
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 65ft  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite +24/+19/+4/+9 (4d6+12/x3, primary), 2 rending hooves +24 (1d6/x3, secondary)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 26  
> Dexterity: 18  
> Constitution: 18  
> Intelligence: 13  
> Wisdom: 18  
> Charisma: 19
> 
> Skills:  
> Appraise +4, Knowledge Nature +10, Linguistics +3, Perception +18, Knowledge Arcana +3, Knowledge Religion +7, Sense Motive +12, Disguise +11, Bluff +11, Knowledge Local +3, Knowledge Geography +2, Knowledge Planes +6, Swim +20, Survival +11, Spellcraft +4, Use Magic Device +5
> 
> Racial feats: Alertness, Deceitful, Fey Nature, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats:  
> Power Attack, Shifter's Edge, Dodge, Rending Hooves, Vital Strike, Improved Vital Strike, Devastating Strike
> 
> Class bonus feats: Endurance, Run
> 
> Languages: Aquan, Common, Druidic, Sylvan, telepathy (1 mile, previously touched creatures only), Thassilonian, Abyssal
> 
> Combat gear: +1 cloak of resistance  
> Other gear: 3005 gp, flint and steel, torches (5), adventuring gear, compendium of fey, headband of mental prowess, loot
> 
> Special qualities: amphibious, change shape (Small/Medium humanoid, horse, hippocampus)
> 
> Class abilities: Feyform Aspect, Shifter Hooves, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Track, Woodland Stride, Fey Shape, Trackless Step, Shifter’s Fury, Fey Shifter


	10. The Waterbois and the Temple of Doomsday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reborn mechanic is here! But got-dang if it ain't bittersweet on arrival

Caxi took his bogeyman a-sneaking down to the room at the end of the dungeon.

[Skill rank earned: +1 added to Stealth]

It was an enormous, 40ft-high sanctum that appeared even larger and more void-like for being entirely barren--perfect for Groetus, god of empty places. Which was not to say that it was unoccupied.

The cathedral was packed to the wings with enemies. There were two kinds of qlippoth, three behimirons and two augnagars. Behimirons were monstrous fiends resembling a titan beetle with a sagging, elephantine hide stretched over its spiny carapace. Its body measured 15ft across, not counting trunk and antennae. 

Augnagars were worse. They were enormous, spider-like creatures with three clawed tails and eight legs connected by leathery webs of flesh. They had a wingspan of 30ft and despite being slow-witted, they were also spellcasters.

Then there was a mummy wearing bronze jewelry and a tall headpiece encrusted with gemstones. After having run in with so many unintelligent mummies in this dang dungeon, Caxi could see at once that this undead was clearly of the intelligent variety.

Finally, at the back of the cathedral, bathed in the foul green light emanating from a pair of massive, partially opened doors was a kneeling figure in full adamantine armor. In his upraised, gauntleted hands, was a small shard of metal and the unholy symbol of Yamasoth, a circular rune with vaguely depicted eyes. Anatu.

With all these casters around, the bogeyman snuck out as fast as he could to bring back his report.

“Yeah boi, it’s a boss fight!” said Zhenzhu.

“It’s gonna get messy, but there’s no way any of those enemies in there will touch Anatu. If you can draw as many as you can, I’ll put him under and separate him and the shard.”

“Just kill him--that’s way easier. Way CLEANER.”

“We can’t. If he’s a powerful enough cleric to do this ritual, he’s powerful enough to undo the medusa’s petrification.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Caszir’s daughter is still up in the abbey, petrified. Anatu can save her.”

“Anatu is the dungeon BOSS. First of all, we can’t clear the dungeon without killing him. Second of all, there’s no f--ing way he’d help us. Weren’t you listening? He’s an evil cleric of evil god Yamasoth. He’s gonna be pissed we messed up his grand plan.”

“But it’s not his plan--it’s Setra’s.”

“Yeah, his friend, who we killed.”

“Real friends wouldn’t--”

“Stop. Cleaner, just stop. Do you even hear yourself? Look, this is a game. None of this is real. All we can do is clear the dungeon and level up and have fun doing it--that’s it.”

“But it’s not just a game!”

“Yes! It is! Cleaner, for f--k’s sake, we’re the only real things in here. The only things that matter. Your feelings are real, sure, and I’m sorry you have to feel guilty about killing a guy, but he was an NPC. Everyone’s an NPC--they don’t matter.”

“No--I--you--” Caxi telepathically stammered, blinking back tears in her big, horsey eyes.

Zhenzhu let out a deep sigh. “Alright, fine. Hashtag waterbois for life. We do it your way. I draw aggro, you deal with Anatu, and then you help me kick everyone else’s butt. Sound good?”

“Thank you. Yes. Sounds freakin’ fab.” 

It was boss battle time. The merfolk charged in, ranseur blazing. Aggro, drawn. 

Caxi went in glowing and misty. The head mummy let the qlippoths swarm merfolk and focused on the whisperer. It summoned three shadows to its side and sent the incorporeal dead at the incorporeal fey.

Caxi cursed but stuck to the plan. The Cleaner activated their Captivating Lure on Anatu. Normally, a high level cleric would’ve had the Will to shrug off that kind of move. But the elf had proven his mind was broken enough that he could be bossed around by the lower level medusa cleric.

Sure enough, the helmeted elf’s arms fell slack. He rose unsteadily to his feet and turned away from the doors--yes!

“No!” roared the mummy, flinging quickened magic at Caxi as fast as it could.

The whisperer shrugged off the barrage. Ignoring the minions, the Cleaner sent their cursed touch tendrils at the mummy. At the undead’s dying cries, two of the qlippoth turned from Zhenzhu onto Caxi. The merfolk dropped a third.

[Level up]

Yes! The Cleaner punched six tendrils through a qlippoth, shredding it like a cheese. Zhenzhu shishkebabed another. The fight was going great--there were only two qlippoths remaining.

Then the doomsday doors shuddered and scraped further open. Out crawled a new, giant horror. This monster had ten spidery legs, a head writhing with dripping tentacles above a clutch of red eyes, and three whipping stingers. It was a thulgant qlippoth, and its horrific appearance was like a physical, murderous whack to the brain.

[Fey Aspect activated]

The Cleaner scraped by on his boosted defenses. Zhenzhu’s rage, however, didn’t raise their Will high enough to spare them. The merfolk could only stare, stunned, while the thulgant’s mere presence sapped their Wisdom score to half strength.

Zhenzhu’s Will was sundered and the last three qlippoths in the doomsday cathedral knew it. They all turned on the defenseless merfolk.

“Zhenzhu!” Caxi screamed. He did the only thing he could. The whisperer threw all his might into an attack on the augnagar. “Come on, come on, come on!”

The augnagar was drawn off the barbarian, leaving them to suffer a beating by the behimiron and thulgant instead. The Cleaner worked the qlippoth as fast as he could, but Zhenzhu had to be hanging on by a thread.

The augnagar fell. Caxi turned onto the behimiron with a mental scream of frustration. His friend was stunned and DYING. But this qlippoth fell faster than the first.

[Level up]

Yes! A small but vital burst of hit points, feats, and increased damage reduction surged as new strength through the barbarian. Zhenzhu roared. Together, merfolk and Cleaner laid waste to the final, bossly qlippoth.

“WHOOHOO!” cried Zhenzhu, pumping their ranseur into the air.

“Whoohoo!” the whisperer echoed inside their minds.

The merfolk laughed, shaking, and lowered their ranseur. “H-hey, why didn’t the dungeon clear?”

The two turned, slowly, toward the armored elf. He was still standing where Caxi had left him.

“Zhenzhu--”

“Sorry, about this,” said the merfolk, pulling their ranseur back for a throw. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Zhenzhu, no!” Caxi shoved at them. Technically, the Cleaner did. In whisperer form. Her incorporeal tendrils punched through the merfolk as easily as a qlippoth, even easier. “Zh-Zhenzhu?”

The barbarian slumped to the floor. The ranseur clattered to the floor.

Caxi shifted from fey to screaming horse. She kept shifting--to kelpie to naiad to horse to--falling to her hooves, hands, and knees by Zhenzhu’s side. “Help! Help! Help me!”

A cleric--she needed a--Caxi turned her shifting horse and humanoid faces onto Anatu. She scrambled over on uneven, shifting limbs.

The cursed shard. The cursed shard. Her hoof-hands grabbed hold of the elf’s gauntlet. She stowed the whole thing, glove and contents, into her inventory at once.

The helmed elf let out a tinny groan. And collapsed. From days of sleep deprivation.

The Doomsday Doors slammed shut with a resounding boom of finality. The sanctum plunged into darkness.

[Dungeon cleared: Temple of Doomsday]

[Level up: Feyform Shifter 20]

Caxi screamed and cried and screamed.

They woke ludicrously, offensively well-rested. They had all kinds of notifications from the game. The game and their new, monstrously cruel reality. They ignored them.

The horse rolled wearily up to a seated curl. Their closest friend in this world was still lying on the floor. Their stillness went beyond peaceful. It was the heavy, sinking lifelessness of a stone.

On their other side, a starving, unwashed, teenaged elf sat with his knees curled to his chest amidst the discarded pieces of his adamantine armor. He had deep olive skin and clawed scars over his missing left eye. The one remaining was solid black. It met the horse’s with equal, soul-drained despair.

The Cleaner rose to their feet. They walked, hooves echoing, toward the elf. He didn’t move. Neither did he look away.

The horse lowered their head. The young elf raised one hand to rest on the side of their warm jaw.

“Anatu.”

His eye widened in shock. He pulled his hand off the horse that wasn't a horse. "Are you here to kill me?"

"I'm here to bring you back to Windsong."

Anatu slumped back over his knees. "Just kill me then. I'm as good as dead if I go back."

"I won't let them hurt you."

"W-why?"

"I know you're not responsible for this."

"No. I-I am," the elf snivelled. Tears fell down one side of his face.

"You're not. First off, you weren't in your right mind. Second, you're still just a--a kid! You were around a lot of adults making bad decisions for you. You can't put this on yourself. Promise me. Promise me you won't blame yourself."

"How can I?" Anatu screamed. "I did this! I killed everyone I loved and almost the whole world too! I deserve to die!"

"No you don't! You don't. Look at you now! How do you feel?"

"Like s--t."

"How do you FEEL Anatu?"

"I feel STUPID for getting into a SCREAMING match with a telepathic HORSE!"

And Caxi, laughed. It was all he could do. Because this elf teen was right. Zhenzhu was right. It was unbearably, ludicrously, hilariously stupid.

“Stop laughing at me, you stupid horse!” Anatu cried. He sobbed. And then he laughed, too.

Caxi flumped to a seat beside him. The worn-out elf flung his arms around the horse's neck. He laughed and cried and laughed himself back into an exhausted sleep.

The Caxi stayed there with him, staring distantly at the unmarked wall of the sanctum. He blinked. He shouldn’t have been able to see the wall, much less Anatu.

Caxi pulled up the Cleaner’s stats. It had been that last level up. She now had access to her fey aspect and all her added animal aspects at the same time. She was also being prompted to choose a final animal aspect.

She pulled up the animal list deliriously. What did it all matter? It didn’t, not according to Zhenzhu dead on the floor over there. So she picked the most ridiculous option on the list--a peacock, which boosted not Strength nor Dexterity nor Constitution but peacock-flippin’ Charisma.

Oh, and it netted her a tail slap attack. A peacock feathers tail slap. Fancy that. But wait, there was more!

DR 10/cold iron. Immune to movement-impairing effects. Spell resistance 30. Defensive instinct bonus increased to +5. Shifter’s fury bite now ignored adamantium and all damage reduction.

The Cleaner had picked up two new abilities. A Thousand Faces let her aesthetically modify any of her normal appearances on the fly. Timeless Body prevented her from taking ability score penalties from freakin’ AGING. She couldn’t even be magically aged anymore, though the game promised she could still die of old age.

Die of old age? In here? The horse laughed, a harsh, ringing sound. Ugh, the game was still prompting her to pick an ability score to dump her last +1 reward into. She dropped it into Intelligence, her consistently lowest stat.

“There! Happy?” Caxi snorted.

The game was not. There was one final notification.

[2 Rebirth Points have been earned for reaching your class’ level cap and for clearing an overrun dungeon.]

“What the fork is a Rebirth Point?”

[Rebirth Points have many uses. One RP can purchase a reincarnation for your character.]

[WARNING: Reincarnation incurs partial or total loss of memory depending on your current Intelligence score. Reincarnated characters retain ability scores and questline items ONLY. All other attributes may be lost or retained. HP, BAB, saves, spells, items, and gold are permanently lost.]

[First-time reincarnated characters are raised from bronze rank to silver rank. They are initially set on the slow levelling track unless further RPs are spent to increase their levelling speed.]

[One RP can also be used to purchase a completely new character with a 32pt buy for ability scores or unlock Rebirth options for an NPC. WARNING: completely new, bronze-rank characters will spawn in a dungeon incurring the same risk of permanent death as your original character.]

"Partial or total...memory loss." Memory loss. That was it. That was exactly what Caxi needed--just enough to turn this world of pain back into a game. If more, then hey, the more the merrier.

The horse cracked a wide, painfully parched grin. This game really had everything, didn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the Cleaner, horse (kelpie) feyform shifter 20]  
> Neutral large fey (aquatic, shapechanger)  
> Rank: bronze, 2 RP  
> Initiative: +11  
> Senses: low-light vision, Perception +18, darkvision
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 40 (+7 Dex, +10 natural armor, +12 defensive instinct, dodge +1)  
> HP: 280  
> Fortitude: +17  
> Reflex: +20  
> Will: +14  
> Misc: resist 10 fire
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 65ft  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite +28/+23/+18/+13 (4d6+12/x3, primary), 2 rending hooves +28 (1d6/x3, secondary), tail slap +28 (1d8/x3, secondary)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 26  
> Dexterity: 24  
> Constitution: 18  
> Intelligence: 14  
> Wisdom: 24  
> Charisma: 25
> 
> Skills:  
> Appraise +5, Knowledge Nature +11, Linguistics +4, Perception +18, Knowledge Arcana +4, Knowledge Religion +8, Sense Motive +12, Disguise +14, Bluff +14, Knowledge Local +4, Knowledge Geography +3, Knowledge Planes +7, Swim +20, Survival +11, Spellcraft +5, Use Magic Device +8, Stealth +11
> 
> Racial feats: Alertness, Deceitful, Fey Nature, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats:  
> Power Attack, Shifter's Edge, Dodge, Rending Hooves, Vital Strike, Improved Vital Strike, Devastating Strike
> 
> Class bonus feats: Endurance, Run
> 
> Languages: Aquan, Common, Druidic, Sylvan, telepathy (1 mile, previously touched creatures only), Thassilonian, Abyssal
> 
> Combat gear: +1 cloak of resistance  
> Other gear: 3005 gp, flint and steel, torches (5), adventuring gear, compendium of fey, headband of mental prowess, loot  
> Questline items: metal shard clutched in Anatu's adamantium gauntlet
> 
> Special qualities: amphibious, change shape (Small/Medium humanoid, horse, hippocampus)
> 
> Class abilities: Feyform Aspect, Shifter Hooves, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Track, Woodland Stride, Fey Shape, Trackless Step, Shifter’s Fury, Fey Shifter, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body


	11. [Tutorial Ended]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> O Cleaner, what fresh horror hast thou wrought?

Caxi couldn’t wait. Not when this nightmare could be over before the horse had even left his dungeon of doom. He opened up his inventory. “Dump, dump, dump-dump, dump, dump, DUMP.”

He dumped his entire inventory onto the floor of the god of empty places’ sanctum. Coins went rolling, armor went clattering, that stupid book Caxi never should’ve taken from the bogeyman thudded like a brick--only Caszir’s cloak went down quietly, billowing down like a fallen flag.

The massive crash woke Anatu instantly. The elf jumped to his feet. He windmilled his arms for balance, Setra’s doomsday key shooting across the floor from under his heel. “What the Abyss is this?!”

The Cleaner clip-clopped up to his feet with a dismissive shake of his mane and tail. The only thing he hadn’t dropped was the metal shard. He didn’t bother looking at it, but it was clear the teen couldn’t handle its curse. 

With his new SR 30, he figured the Cleaner would be fine. For at least an hour or two. After that, it’d be lost with everything else he’d lose in the Restart--no, “Rebirth.”

“You still feelin’ hecka guilty?” asked Caxi.

“Of course!”

“This is part of your penance. First, you grab Nillitu from the prison. You take your friend back up to Caszir at the lighthouse. 

“Second, you go straight to the bathhouse. His daughter’s turned to stone. You use whatever divine, healing magic clerics have to save her.

“Third, you come back to the dungeon. Zhenzhu and I--there’s loot everywhere, okay? More than just this. We couldn’t carry it all, and I’ve got horsepower,” Caxi snorted bitterly. “Take it back. Sell it. Help Caszir and Nillitu rebuild the abbey. Got it?”

Anatu was silent for a long time. He couldn’t raise his head. Only the Cleaner’s darkvision let her see that he was trembling. Tiny droplets broke soundlessly at his feet.

The mare stepped forward. She lowered her head and ever-so-gently bopped the top of his with her brow. “There’s a fourth thing.”

“Oh, great, more penance,” he sniffed and weakly scoffed. He stepped back to wipe his eye.

“Don’t touch this until you’ve done all the first three things, ok? Or I will find you and the Cleaner WILL kick your butt. Game, give one of my RPs to Anatu.”

He looked up, stammering in confusion. “RP? Game? The Cleaner?”

Then Anatu’s breath froze. His jaw fell slack. His eye widened. He was seeing into that space, that dimension that only PCs could. The game menu and all the glory of its displays.

“You promised, remember?”

He nodded, numbly, his eye still staring into his newly expanded world. Caxi gave his back a little headbutt toward the door. Not the doomsday doors, the open doorway.

“You promised. Now get going. Penance yaself.”

The elf took faltering steps toward the door. He stopped to look back. “Who-who are you?”

The horse sighed. “The Cleaner. That-that’s my character name. But where I come from, I’m Caxi.”

“Th-thank you. Caxi.”

Caxi squeezed their eyes shut. Even if none of this mattered...it still felt kinda good to know that someone in this big, wide, fake world knew their name. They wished they’d known Zhenzhu’s. The Cleaner banished it to the back of their brain with a vigorous mane-shake.

“Get outta here al--” they opened their eyes. The elf was gone--either soundlessly through the door or having used the Rebirth Point like the squirrelly little teenage rascal he was. “Whatever. Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”

After all, the horse was also high-tailing it out of here. Time to step from bronze to silver. The Rebirth menu showed six possible ranks: bronze(0), silver (1), gold (2), specialist (3), legendary (4), and mythic (5). 

Caxi absently wondered just how many obscenely powerful Reborn PCs were wandering around in-game. They were probably all pathfinders. If there was one thing they hoped they remembered for the restart, it was about the pathfinders--namely, to steer hecka clear.

[Select race]  
[Select class]

"Let's start class first this time. What the--?"

Their class options were limited based on the choices they'd made during this playthrough. Yes, they could play a healing cleric, but they could only choose nature gods or fey gods, the Eldest. "Definitely no Eldest. Hurr, no water gods."

Their cleric made it all the way to spell list. That was where they had to draw the line. There were just too many choices. That, and the fact that clerics had to look at this spell list every day to pick spells off of. Pick wrong for one dungeon and--

"Yeah, no. Ok, how about we just ease into spells this time?" After some practice, they could go healer in their next, 'real' playthrough.

Time to look at the funnest caster--bard. Caxi had always wanted to pick up an instrument. He could see it, going through dungeons and serenading party and monster. Zhenzhu would've loved that.

The smile soured on his horsey lips. He couldn't keep a song going while his friends were getting hurt. He shut the bard down before his thought train tracked any darker.

Caxi busied himself looking through his limited, part-caster options. "Mesmerist? Huh, what's a mesmerist?"

[Experts at charm and deceit, mesmerists compel others to heed their words and bend to their will. They support their allies with magical tricks, most of which offer protection. They have minor healing ability, but can easily remove conditions that typically affect the mind.]

The horse gaped. Game-changer. The mesmerist was a game-changer. He didn’t have to watch his party get slaughtered in a dungeon. He could bend monsters to his will and fight monster with monster. “Oh, big yes!”

[Mesmerist weapon and armor proficiencies added]  
[Class abilities added: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare]

Caxi felt a trill of excitement in his veins--new abilities! He started his reading from the top.

[Consummate Liar: add half mesmerist level as a bonus on all Bluff checks]

[Hypnotic Stare: swift action, focus your stare on one creature in 30ft. That creature takes a -2 on Will saving throws. The creature will not remember it was affected or is affected unless the mesmerist allows it.]

[Painful Stare: free action, once per round, when an attack hits the target of Hypnotic Stare, you can cause the target to take additional damage equal to half your mesmerist level. If it is your attack, add an additional 1d6 precision damage.]

“Ooo, ouch!” Caxi neighed gleefully.

[Select Mesmerist Trick]  
[Select spells]

She put off the spells for as long as possible, reading about tricks instead.

[A mesmerist can create hypnotic bonds with allies, implanting magical suggestions in their minds that you can later activate. Each day, you can implant a number of tricks equal to half mesmerist level plus your Charisma bonus. You can have only one trick implanted at a given time.]

[To implant a trick, take a standard action and either touch a willing creature or implant the trick in yourself. You can monitor for the trick’s triggering condition through a subtle telepathic connection. An ally must be within telepathic range for the mesmerist to trigger the trick.]

[An implanted trick lasts until the next time you regain spells. Once triggered, the trick is lost.]

“Intriguing.”

[Reflect Fear: The mesmerist can trigger this trick when the subject is affected by a fear or demoralizing effect. The subject suppresses the effect for 1d4 rounds, and any creature that caused this effect must succeed at a Will save or become shaken for 1 round. The rounds during which the subject ignores the effect still count against the effect’s duration. If the duration is longer than the effect lasts, the subject isn’t affected at all.]

That could’ve really helped against the qlippoths and their horrific appearances. Caxi added it and hurried went to look at the spells.

[The mesmerist can cast any spell you know without preparing it ahead of time. The saving throw DC against a mesmerist’s spell is 10 + the spell’s level + Charisma.]

[The mesmerist’s selection of spells is limited. You begin play knowing four 0-level spells and two 1st-level spells of the mesmerist’s choice.]

“And 0-level spells can be cast without using up spells per day, nice. Read magic--need that for those stupid scrolls. Light--hey, no more dropping torches.” 

Sure, the Cleaner had darkvision for now, but who was to say that wouldn’t be one of their forgotten abilities?

“Detect magic? That sounds important. Prestidigitation? What’s that?”

[Prestidigitations are minor tricks that novice spellcasters use for practice. They enable you to perform simple magical effects for 1 hour. The effects are minor and have severe limitations. They cannot deal damage or affect the concentration of spellcasters.] 

[A prestidigitation can slowly lift 1 pound of material. It can color, clean, or soil items in a 1-foot cube each round. It can chill, warm, or flavor 1 pound of nonliving material. Any actual change to an object (beyond just moving, cleaning, or soiling it) persists only 1 hour.]

[They can also create small, crude, artificial objects. The materials created are extremely fragile and cannot be used as tools, weapons, or spell components.]

Ahah! The definition of a utility spell. And hey, cleaning was EXTREMELY important and useful. Being able to change monster meat flavor from savory to ice cream--only slightly less important. “Done, done, and done!”

But those were just the 0-levels. Caxi still had two spells to choose from an entirely new list to read through. “Horse biscuits. Can I filter these? Can you just show me, like, healing or enemy-controlling spells?”

[Organic spell selection enabled]

“Holy horses!” This game really DID have everything.

With his class all set up, he went to select his race. Just like his class options, his race selections were also limited based on his current game. Caxi started to get a sense of why a player would use an RP to restart with a 32pt buy instead of get their character reborn.

He could pick any of the core races (dwarf, elf, gnome, half-elf, halfling, half-orc, human--boring!), fey-related races or animal-related races. And he was done, so done, with the fey.

“Ok, what animal fits a mesmerist?” As much as he loved his horsey Cleaner, even his peacock aspect made more sense as a mind-controller.

[Vishkanya: Eerily beautiful on the outside and poisonous on the inside, vishkanyas see the world through slitted serpent eyes. They possess a serpent's grace and ability to escape their enemies' grasp with ease. Vishkanyas have a reputation for being both charming and manipulative. They can use their saliva or blood to poison their weapons.]

Ignoring that last poisoner part, the snakey vishkanya sounded perfect for a mesmerist. “Selected!”

[Secret mesmerist archetype unlocked: Toxitician]

That didn’t sound like anything Caxi had been trying to create, but she took a look at its limited description just to be circumspect here.

[Toxiticians forgo the mesmerist’s stare. Instead, they combine their psychic power with alchemical knowledge to craft injections that torment their foes and bolster themselves and their allies.]

“Yeah, no, I just wanna be a snake. A literal, hypnotizing snake who can end fights before they even begin.”

[Secret race unlocked: Serpentfolk]

“Serpentfolk?” It sounded like the catfolk and ratfolk options she’d just looked through. Which made her wonder why the game had put it on the secret race list.

The character creation screen gave her an inkling of why. Instead of her vishkanya with serpentine eyes of burnished gold, olive skin with delicate, supple scales, and thick, shining black hair, Caxi found herself looking at a literal snake. Head.

The projected character was taller, almost six feet, because her neck had elongated. She had the hairless, tapered head of a snake--complete with a flickering forked tongue. Her scales were kelp black and banded with delicate, tiger-like stripes of bluish green.

Her torso was humanoid, and she even had arms, but her lower body was a long, sinuous tail like some kind of land mermaid--no, like the snake that she was. 

This had to be why serpentfolk was on the secret race list. They were a monstrous humanoid. People would be as scared of them as they were of the kelpie.

“Heh.” After what they’d done, they deserved to be kept at a social distance. Not embraced like a horse. Not allowed hot privilege like a naiad.

Caxi didn’t care that all the serpentfolk’s stats were hidden behind ???s. They were truly a kelpie. Truly a snake. A serpentfolk. “Done.”

They’d locked in their choices. Here was where the original character creation screen had prompted them to input their name. In the reborn menu, their finished character remained “Unnamed.”

“Weird flex, but o--”

Everything vanished, including Caxi and the Cleaner themselves. In that void--the limbo between death, life, and rebirth--there was nothing but darkness. And the distant, distorted hum of loading music.


	12. 16 Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here begins a new chapter in the saga of the Reborn

The very second that Caxi/the Cleaner vanished from the Temple of Doomsday in the wild frontier lands of Varisia, a baby was born to a vishkanyan mother and a Tian father in the far-eastern empire of Taldor. They were immigrants from the neighboring Padishah Empire of Kelesh. 

The simple carpet sellers had set up in “Tent City” outside the wall of Yanmass, a vital city stop for caravans headed into the western continent of Avistan or the Eastern continent of Casmar. Mother, father, and vishkanyan baby Yicaxi made three. 

Taldans hated Keleshites almost as much as they hated the Qadirans from the south, but they couldn’t get enough of their wares. Business was booming. Three years later, mother, father, Yicaxi, and twins Xoshakul and Utanna made five.

Two years later, Tent City became oversaturated with Kelish carpet sellers. Business faltered. Yicaxi was six years old when his/her/their father left for work one day and never came home. Their mother, Zarishu, refused to speak of him ever again.

Yicaxi realized then what he had to do. Mother had to work all by herself to make sure they had money for food and rent. So Yicaxi took care of little brother Xosha and little sister Tanna. He took care of their wood and thatch shanty house in Washfield. He made sure everyone and everything was fed, clothed, and cleaned.

When the twins were ten, Mother and her little Cleaner decided they were old enough to keep themselves out of trouble. The 13-year-old Yicaxi kept up his homemaking duties, but he was also brought into the business tent.

He learned to appraise a carpet at a glance. He learned to keep the books. He learned to haggle with buyers and suppliers--in Common (Taldane), Kelish, and Tien. And he was good at it.

Business limped forward. The Wash and the Washfield shanties flooded at least once every rainy season. The combination of wet and cold finally got to the pure-blooded vishkanya Zarishu. She picked up a cough she could never quite shake.

Yicaxi’s family was not thriving. But neither were they giving up like he-who-was-not-to-be-named. When Yicaxi looked up from their marsh to the stone walls of Yanmass and the gilded roofs sprawling across its twin hills, she was only spurred onward in her dream to secure a safe, forever home for her precious family. Surely all it would take was one good, hardworking year.

But as hard as she and Mother worked, there was never a good year. So it was, when she turned sixteen, she was not surprised when Zarishu asked her to consider marriage as a business prospect.

Like all vishkanyas and her mother before her, Yicaxi possessed all the dangerous beauty and allure of the snakes of this world. Though she had spent little time outside the shop with her “tentling” peers, her scales had long since been turning heads. Marry well, and her family might never have to worry again.

There was no way she could refuse. Not even to make peace with her kicking and screaming heart. She dragged those feelings deep down inside with the strength of a wild horse and locked them away to keep her business-perfect smile.

“I’m sorry, Caxi,” said Zarishu, her once husky voice grown hoarse and scratchy from her endless cough. “I’m so s--”

“Mother. Please. I’ve always dreamed of getting married,” Yicaxi lied without blinking. “Of riding off into the sunset on the finest steed in the Taldan Horse.”

Mother smiled bitterly. “A grain of truth to bring out the flavor.”

There was no sparring with Zarishu--it was pointless even to try. And she knew it. Mother hugged Yicaxi’s shoulders and rested her head against hers. “Good night, my little Cleaner. Happy birthday.”

Zarishu stood up from the stoop and went back inside the one-room hut. Yicaxi stayed, listening to the gentle drum of the rain. It was the first of Gozran, the fourth month. The spring rains had only just begun and were at their lightest, most gentle and sprightly.

But when the rain ended, they still didn’t feel like going to bed. Sure, they were tired, drained like a draught of lion’s milk, but they could feel sleep slipping ever further from their grasp. So they did what they always did to clear their head, take a long walk down the river canal--southwest and away from Yanmass.

Even in the dark, they could pick out the safe paths through the marsh. They walked barefoot. The mud squished pleasantly underfoot and nearly came up to their knees in places. Soon they were humming a happy little tune under their breath.

It was a beautiful night. The moon hung huge and heavy in the starry skin. Its twin glimmered just as strikingly in the waters of the Verduran Fork.

A dark shape in the reeds and water caught their eye. It was a riverboat, stuck in the muck. Which was why there was typically no water traffic at this time at night.

Yicaxi shook their head and marched down to help the hapless traders push and pull the poor craft. They were snapping and cursing at each other in Celestial from the sound of it.

“Hey, do you folks need a hand?” they waved and called out in Common.

The robed figures stopped. They hastily donned their hoods--a bad sign--and raised crossbows at Yicaxi--one worse. Smugglers, robe-wearing smugglers--that was a first.

The vishkanya raised his empty hands with a nervous laugh. “Woah, hey, easy. No harm, no foul. I’ll just be go--”

Four bolts whizzed through the air. One would have sufficed. Yicaxi fell with a shocked grunt into the mud. He felt nothing but cold. Saw nothing but dark.

Then a buzzing filled his ears. A distant, distorted hum of music. He opened his eyes. There was something there that wasn’t there before.

“Menu?”

He saw as though in a dream, this floating, transparent overlay over the perceptible world. It was nothing less than the opening of a brand new dimension in his realm of senses.

The self-titled ‘menu’ scrolled up and down through its offerings in response to his thoughts. “Character sheet?”

[Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 1]  
Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
Rank: silver, 0 RP  
Initiative: +16  
Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent

Most of that was complete gibberish. Some of it was just plain incorrect. That was his name, but he was a vishkanya, not whatever this ‘serpentfolk’ was. And that model floating horizontally over him didn’t resemble him in the slightest.

For one, Yicaxi had le-- “MY LEGS!”

Gone. They were just gone. Replaced by an even longer, greenish-black scaled tail with distinct bands of tiger-stripe patterned bluish-green.

And Yicaxi could see all this not because she was sitting up but because her neck had elongated. Her vertebrae were strong enough to hold her reshaped, serpentine head out of the mud.

“Oh no,” she breathed. She clasped her hands on top of her head. “MY HAIR!”

The ‘serpentfolk’ screamed and kept screaming as she rolled up out of the mud to a sitting--woah!--standing(?) position on her earth-maid tail. The long-gone riverboat and its murderous smuggler crew were the furthest thing from her mind as her hands patted down her magically transmuted form.

“No! No! Change me back! Change me back!” she yelled at whatever capricious, chaotic deity had just destroyed her entire life.

[A Thousand Faces activated: vishkanya]

“Woah!” Yicaxi windmilled her arms to catch her balance after shrinking back to normal height and back onto two bare feet. She was somehow even more mud-coated than before. She flung her hands and their mud into the air. “Horse biscuits!”

[0-level cast: prestidigitation]

The area right between her eyes tingled warmly, almost like the alcoholic burn of lion’s milk but over her skull instead of her chest. Yicaxi stared in equal parts shock and awe as the mud just kinda peeled cleanly off her clothes and normal, olive brown scales.

She blinked. Color. She was seeing in color even in the dark. This was-- “Darkvision 60ft!”

The vishkanya/serpentfolk pulled her character sheet back up with a thought.

[Defense]  
AC: 39 (+12 Dex, +3 natural armor, +14 defensive instinct)  
HP: 15  
Fortitude: +9  
Reflex: +4  
Will: +11  
Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
DR: 10/cold iron  
SR: 30

Numbers. That was a lot of numbers. Yicaxi liked numbers when they were neat, tidy, clearly gotten numbers in their record books. These just...immune to paralysis and poison--well, that was good news. If true. Though after what they’d seen tonight, they could hardly doubt it.

[Offense]  
Speed: 45ft, 45ft fly  
Melee: shifter’s fury bite +12/7/2 (4d6+10 plus poison/x3, primary), 2 claws +12 (1d8, secondary), tail slap +12 (1d8, secondary)  
Special attacks: Captivating Lure

“45ft fly? I can fly?”

[Fey Aspect activated]

Their bodily outline blurred and wavered, becoming shifting and indistinct. Large, blackish-green moth wings, the same color as their serpentfolk scales, sprouted from their back and magically through their clothes. Their eyespots were the same vibrant bluish-green as the stripes.

“Holy Abadar. Holy Desna. Holy horses.” Yicaxi squeezed their fists tight and took a cursory flap. They were as stiff as a log in the river, but those deceptively delicate moth wings pulled their feet up out of the mud.

Flying. They were flying. Yicaxi laughed incredulously. The top of the marsh reeds brushed the muddy soles of their feet. They laughed, genuinely, opening their fingers wide.

Yicaxi flew over the river. First up high, high enough to see the edge of the Verduran forest far to the southwest. Then down, down, down until they were gliding over the surface of the water. He dropped his arms to feel his fingers coast through the current.

“Whoohoo! I’m flying! I’m flying!” He flipped and spun over the water, letting his feet drag clean in the river. He laughed, exhilarated.

Then he was swooping back up, spinning and rising until the crisp air grew cold around him. Yicaxi slowed to a floating stop. His breath formed mist this far from the dark river and the pinpoint city lights of Yanmass. As he mellowed in the cool calm washing over him, he opened that menu dimension back up.

[Spell-like abilities]  
At-will: ventriloquism  
1/day: mirror image, suggestion

[Spells]  
0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic  
1st-level: remove sickness, charm person

He floated there for a long time. Ventriloquism was exactly what it sounded like, throwing his voice from anywhere within a close range. Mirror image surrounded him with doubles, mirror copies that moved as he moved.

Light caused a torch-like light to glow like a torch from any object that he touched--his shirt button, his belt buckle, even his pocket. Though he could only have one light spell active at a time.

The other spells either detected no object or couldn’t be used without a person, but the menu provided him with a “written” description of their effects.

[Statistics]  
Strength: 24  
Dexterity: 34  
Constitution: 24  
Intelligence: 22  
Wisdom: 28  
Charisma: 31

“24 out of what? 100? 1000?” The figures were meaningless. 

Yicaxi yawned and shivered. It was getting late/early. First light couldn’t be far off. She sighed and flew back down toward the canal. “This is close enough, thanks.”

[Fey Aspect deactivated]

She plodded wearily but happily back up to the Washfield shanties. There was still more menu to investigate tomorrow, and now she had a cleaning spell to help with her morning chores. Talk of marriage and attempt of murder aside, this was the very best birthday of her entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yicaxi's full character sheet will be posted after he/she/they have a chance to investigate for themself


	13. The Spice of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yicaxi doesn't know it, but the serpentfolk's immune to mind-affecting effects is about to come in REAL handy

Yicaxi woke to a faceful of warm, midmorning sunlight. He sprang out of bed like a kid goat--totally energized. And met the staring eyes of Xosha and Tanna from the other side of the one-room hut.

The twins looked at each other. They burst into laughter.

“What? What is it? What time is it?” asked Yicaxi, glancing down to make sure he had legs instead of a tail.

“It’s ten o’clock, lovebird,” Xosha teasingly announced.

Yicaxi gaped. Holy horses, ten o’clock?! He’d NEVER slept in, not once in his life. Now, apparently, he’d been out like a rock for...eight hours. That--that was what--what the--the menu--

“Don’t worry about it,” said Tanna. “It was your birthday.”

“Yeah, so we did your chores and even made breakfast,” said Xosha. He pointed to the plate of last night’s pita and bowl of baba ganoush on the wobbly old table. “But you have to tell us about the date.”

Yicaxi blinked. He tore his eyes away from the menu dimension both relieved and confounded that it still existed in the daylight. “Date? What date?”

“Don’t play dumb with us. We might be younger than you, but we’re still vishkanyan,” said Tanna. “We know stuff. We heard Mother talking about marrying you off.”

“You never came to bed. You must’ve snuck out to see your lover to give ‘em the tragic news,” said Xosha, throwing an arm theatrically over his brow.

It was Yicaxi’s turn to laugh. He doubled over, slapping his knee and laughing until there were tears in his eyes. “A lover--ha! Nah, nah, nah.”

“Really. Then what’s your cover story, lovebird?” asked Tanna.

Yicaxi straightened with a distant, equally dramatic look in her eye. “The truth is, I’ve never wanted to be married. Yes, I was heartbroken when Mother gave me the news. So I went down into the marsh to seek out the River Mother.”

“C’mon, Caxi. Everybody knows the River Mother’s just a fey tale.”

“Really?”

[A Thousand Faces: alter self]

As Yicaxi tossed her head, she made her hair grow with a thought--from a neat and tidy shoulder length to a fabulous mane all the way to her hip. It was much heavier than expected. She made a mental note never to let her hair grow this long again.

The twins screamed. They ran to her, each grabbing hold of one arm. “The River Mother! She’s real! You met the River Mother! What happened?!”

“Woah, easy!” Yicaxi raised her arms. And somehow took both twins off their feet with them. Her character broke as all three siblings gaped at each other. The eldest recovered first. “Alright, so you want to know what happened? Go sit down.”

The twins scrambled and threw themselves onto the table’s rickety chairs. Yicaxi nodded in solemn approval and pulled her magically cleaned clothes on over her undershirt and shorts. She shrank her hair back to normal instead of pulling a mess out the neck-hole. Then walked upright and commandingly toward the table.

She stopped at the edge and held her hand over the table, ignoring the pita and baba ganoush right in the middle of her stage. "Rise."

[Spell cast: prestidigitation]

Up from the table rose crude, fragile little landscapes of dried mud. Xosha and Tanna gasped. There was the canal, the marsh, and the eastern prong of the Verduran Fork. There was a stumpy, faceless clay doll walking stiff-legged in the marsh--Yicaxi!

Their sibling giggled on the inside. They didn't need any of these words or handwaving to cast their psychic spells, but they definitely made it more fun. They raised a clawed hand upward. A taller, broader doll rose up from the river.

"The River Mother!"

"Indeed. She appeared to me in my time of need, before I even thought to call her. 'Why do you cry, little Cleaner?' she asked me."

"She knew who you were!" said Xosha.

"Of course! The River Mother knows everyone who goes down everyday to wash the clothes in her waters."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense," said Tanna. "So what'd you say?"

"I told her everything. How Mother is sick. How business is--how we don't have much money. How the only thing I could do to help was marry myself off to some richer merchant who'd be a complete stranger.

"The River Mother shook her head. 'You can do more. You can do so much more than you could ever dream. I will give you this power, the power to see inside yourself, but it will come at a terrible cost.'" 

They paused, dramatically. The twins ate it up, hanging on their every word.

"What's the cost? Caxi! What did you pay? You gotta tell us! Caxi, come on!"

"She turned me...into a monster!"

[A Thousand Faces deactivated]

Xosha and Tanna screamed and jumped so high they fell over in their chairs. Yicaxi laughed, forked tongue flickering. Even as a six-foot, armed were-snake, he was much less frightening when snorting and slapping the tail bend that replaced his knees.

The twins picked themselves off the floor. They ran over, poking their big sibling amidst an endless flow of questions. Most of which boiled down to, "What else can you do? WHAT ELSE CAN YOU DO?"

“Let’s see, shall we?” hissed the snake. He held his hand out over the pita and baba ganoush.

[Spell cast: prestidigitation]

The mud-clay vanished. Steam rose from the warmed, softened bread. Yicaxi picked a pita and spooned on some spread for himself. He jerked his head toward the platter. “Go on. Take a bite.”

Xosha and Tanna each grabbed a pita. They took a big bite, then a huge one. “Holy Abadar, it’s shawarma! It tastes like shawarma!”

“Try the sauce.”

They did, and had to grab a whole new, non-devoured pita to do so. “Mangoes--it’s amba sauce!”

“Yep. Happy birthday from me.”

“Wha’ elshe ca’ you do? Wha’ elshe ca’ you do?”

Yicaxi scrolled through her character sheet.

Skills: (13/13 ranks)  
Appraise +10, Bluff +15, Disguise +14, Arcana +10, History +10, Local +10, Nature +10, Nobility +10, Planes +7, Religion +10, Linguistics +10, Spellcraft +10, Use Magic Device +18

Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse

Feats: (0/1)

Nope, none of that made a lick of sense. She kept scrolling.

Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)

Now that was interesting. She didn’t remember ever hearing Abyssal, language of the Abyss, or Aklo, language of evil fey. She’d heard Sylvan spoken by gnome customers before. Thassilonian? That was a dead language spoken in the far, far western edge of the world in the ancient empire of Thassilon--absolutely no idea how she knew what that even was.

Telepathy, though, that was certain to get her younger siblings’ attention. 

“Since you helped me finish all my chores, I have an hour after breakfast. We can go down into the marsh, and I’ll show you the really good stuff from the River Mother,” said Yicaxi. In Vishkanyan. Directly into their brains.

The twins screamed with their mouths full.

Ten minutes later, they were out in the marsh. They knew the quiet spots without venturing out too far in the wilder, more dangerous areas.

The River Mother was most probably a fey tale, but the monstrous, one-eyed wolves called black shucks and the crocodile-headed dragons called vorvoraks were very, very real. Everyone in Washfield knew the neighbor whose partially devoured body had been washed back up by the canal.

Needless to say, the vishkanyas kept their eyes and ears open while they played. Yicaxi had shifted back into their normal form to leave the hut. Reading through their abilities, they wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body

“Watch this,” they grinned.

[Fey Aspect: activated]

Xosha and Tanna gaped at the greenish-black moth wings that spread from their back. At their hypnotic, bluish-green eyespots, and the truly fey blur and waver of Yicaxi’s outline.

[Fey Aspect: horse]

They drew their wings back into their body and grew. Their arms became forelegs, their hands and feet, hooves. Their torso stretched up and outward, ears and face elongating. Their scales shifted into a short coat of greenish-black with a flowing mane and tail.

In seconds, Yicaxi had transformed into a small but wily and whirlwind fast Qadiran horse. Of course their siblings clambered aboard. “Hold on tight,” they warned telepathically.

[Fey Aspect: giant snapping turtle]  
[Fey Aspect: saber-toothed tiger]  
[Fey Aspect: peacock]

He transformed from horse to prehistoric beast. Xosha and Tanna rocked and yelped as his prized Qadiran steed became a horse-sized, armor-shelled, black turtle. They yelled shrieked with even more fervid enthusiasm as he shifted into the 12ft-long, iron-muscled smilodon with a reed-shaking roar. They fell off into the mud when he at last became a small, anticlimactic peacock.

“Whaddaya think?” he asked, shaking his tail in a hopping, turning, little peacock dance.

“Forget marriage,” said Xosha into Yicaxi’s mind. “You’re like some rich noble’s dream pet--Mother should sell you straight to the imperial family!”

“Forget marriage,” said Tanna, also into Yicaxi’s mind--the telepathic link only worked with him. “You can join the Taldan Horse now--as somebody’s steed!”

The twins laughed at their separate jokes at the same time. 

Yicaxi shifted back into his vishkanyan form. He noticed, delightedly, that his A Thousand Faces made him subtly more masculine, feminine, or fluid depending on what gender he was feeling. 

He flumped to a seat on his elbows in the squishy mud between the twins. The sky began to drizzle the lightest sprinkling of rain. No matter--he no longer needed to be so careful with his clothes.

"You're right about one thing. There ain't gonna be no wedding after this." He looked through the rest of his abilities for his 'mesmerist class.'

Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear 

Most were combat oriented. So we're the forms of his Fey Aspect, peacock excluded. It was just what he'd need for truly joining the Taldan Horse.

They were the local branch of an international adventuring guild, the pathfinders. They helped to deal with prowling monsters, but their real focus was to find and clear out dungeons, which was where monsters came from. The job was as dangerous as it was lucrative. But adventure, danger, and gold--if those weren't the spice of life, what was?

Yicaxi kept scrolling, down to the end. He had an entire inventory page. It was, however, mostly empty.

Combat gear:  
Other gear:  
Questline items: metal shard

What was that? She raised her hand to the floating inventory cubby and pulled out a small, palm-sized shard of glimmering green metal.

[Shard of Envy: cursed artifact, overwhelming aura of abjuration. As long as the Shard of Envy is carried, its owner can use dispel magic once per day, gains a +2 insight bonus on saves versus abjuration, and gains a +1 insight bonus to AC.]

[Curse: The owner covets the success, wealth, and appearance of all other creatures, and becomes sickened whenever they are within 30ft of any creature of the same race or class. Physical contact with such a creature nauseates the owner for 2d6 rounds if they fail a DC 20 Fortitude save.]

"Hey, what's that?"

"Just a grasshopper," lied Yicaxi, closing her fist. She subtly pushed it back into her inventory while reaching for Xosha's collar. "Here, lemme show you."

The twins shrieked and clambered to their feet. Yicaxi chased them, laughing, through the marsh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 1]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 0 RP  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 39 (+12 Dex, +3 natural armor, +14 defensive instinct)  
> HP: 15  
> Fortitude: +9  
> Reflex: +4  
> Will: +11  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 45ft, 45ft fly  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite +12/7/2 (4d6+10 plus poison/x3, primary), 2 claws +12 (1d8, secondary), hoof kick or tail slap +12 (1d8, secondary)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 24  
> Dexterity: 34  
> Constitution: 24  
> Intelligence: 22  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 31
> 
> Skills: (13/13 ranks)  
> Appraise +10, Bluff +15, Disguise +14, Arcana +10, History +10, Local +10, Nature +10, Nobility +10, Planes +7, Religion +10, Linguistics +10, Spellcraft +10, Use Magic Device +18
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats: (0/1)
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear 
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear:  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy


	14. Choose Your Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No character sheet here since there's been no change. Level ups now officially fewer and farther between

Every day at noon, Yicaxi joined Zarishu in the colorful tented sprawl of bazaar outside the stone walls of Yanmass. He brought lunch for both of them as per usual. The rain had strengthened to a steady, gentle drumming on the waterproof tent-tops. He was greeted Mother's muffled cough.

"Caxi, take over for me, will you?" she said through her sleeve. She turned to head to the back.

Yicaxi, his speed notably increased after his transformation, caught the back of her sleeve. "Mother, just a moment. I have something to show you."

[Spell cast: remove sickness]

The spell couldn't cure her disease, but it could allay her symptoms for ten minutes--enough to take the edge off her lungs. Zarishu's burnished gold eyes widened as her coughing fit immediately ended. "You--you have my attention."

Yicaxi sighed internally. Zarishu always was the toughest of crowds.

[Spell cast: prestidigitation]

All the rainwater wicked off of him and the lunch basket into a halo of floating droplets around them. With a slightly dramatic flick of his hand, he sent the dirty water back outside the tent.

"Since when--since when did you--"

Got her. Yicaxi smiled and put a finger to his lips. He subtly titled his head to the single gnome perusing the tiered rolls of exquisite Kelish carpets along the wall. The fine quality of their silk clothes and shiny leather boots suggested they were a citizen of upper Yanmass. 

He stepped up beside the potential customer. "Find what you're after?" he asked. In Sylvan.

The gnome jumped. "Oh! Didn't see you there!" they replied, also in Sylvan. "A young vishkanyan tentling speaking Sylvan--fancy that! You just might be able to help me. I'm looking for something for my sister's wedding--something that appears appropriately extravagant but costs much less."

"It must be fate--I was just helping a friend of mine arrange for their own wedding! Here, let me show you what they found of particular interest."

[Suggestion cast]

She brought the gnome toward the wall of slightly cheaper carpets (but not the cheapest of the lot). "As you can see, the knot count here is lower. A discerning eye will notice the difference at once, but if you throw in a matched set of sitting pillows, all will be forgiven."

"Oh. Oh yes, I see. My sister does have a discerning eye. And it is her wedding. How many pillows do you suggest I buy?"

"The usual amount is six, one for each end of the carpet and two for the length." The usual amount was two or none.

"Then I'll take six and that pattern of carpet. Let's talk price."

Behind her back, Yicaxi flashed one and six fingers at Zarishu. Now that they'd moved on to haggling, there was no escape for the wealthy gnome. As soon as the sale was made and the gnome packed off from the tent, Mother closed in as well.

"Yicaxi, explain yourself," she said quietly--both blunt and awestruck.

"It was the River Mother--she's real, Mother. I met her last night in the marsh."

"You met a hag, more likely! Oh, Gold-Fisted Abadar--what did you promise her? Your firstborn? Your soul?"

"No, no, Mother. It was her. It was really her. She didn't want anything from me--all this power? That's me. That's all me! She just opened my eyes to what I already had inside."

"There's nothing that comes without a price!"

"There was--maybe--a price."

"Go on," said Zarishu. Her tone said, 'I knew it.'

As Yicaxi knew she would. She would never have accepted any of their good news without some dash of bitter 'reality.' So they had no choice but to feed it to her. "I only look like this, like normal, because of magic."

"What did this 'River Mother' do to you, Yicaxi?"

"Have you ever heard tales of serpentfolk?"

"Serpentfolk? I haven't heard of--the old storyteller in my village--he mentioned a race of snake people, the ancestors of all serpentine humanoids. Perhaps--"

[A Thousand Faces deactivated]

Zarishu did not scream. But she was silent. Silent for a long time--until Yicaxi tried to break that unbearable tension before Mother's judgment by shifting back.

"You can't show this face to anyone, Yicaxi. You look like a dungeon monster. You'd be hunted down--killed in cold blood."

"I understand, Mother. I promise I won't, but this face is only a very, very small part of the River Mother's gift. I have power, real power now--enough to join the--"

"No! You can't join the Taldan Horse! What if they discover your face? They'll believe you a monster whose infiltrated their ranks. They won't just kill you--they'll torture and experiment on you first like any monster."

"Not if they knew who I was--"

"They're Taldans, Yicaxi! You're a Kelish immigrant and a 'bestial' vishkanya to boot. We're already less than people to them. They have the fuel to burn us dead. Don't hand them a flame."

He blinked hard against the rising tide of burning tears but dug in his heels. "I--I don't believe they would. They're always recruiting. They need power. I have that now! I would be an asset!"

"You would be a tool, and you know it.

Yicaxi grit his teeth and shut his eyes as the tears flowed. He hadn't wanted to do this, but there was no sparring with Zarishu.

[Spell cast: charm person]

He wiped his eyes and met her own. She did not speak, but something has changed in her face. There was an unfamiliar softness there. A weakness to be exploited.

"We need money, Mother. Even a year of endless customers can't recoup our losses over the past three. We've both seen the books. That was why you suggested marriage. It would be more dangerous for us all if a snake were discovered in the marriage bed. 

"As a Taldan Horse, I would make enough to move our family into Yanmass proper. The Taldans hate us, but they love our carpets--you'd finally be able to make a killing with the right clientele. 

"Let me do this for our family. And we'll never have to worry about money, food, housing--not anything! Ever. Again."

It was Zarishu's turn to blink hard and rapid. When she finally spoke, her voice was much hoarser than usual. "I...I cannot say no to you, Caxi. I don't approve, but I cannot say no."

Yicaxi let out a broken sob and ran out into the rain. As her feet pounded through the splattering mud between the tents, she shifted and grew until her galloping hooves flew across the sodden earth.

Everything she did--no matter what she did--nothing was ever good enough. After all these years fraught with money fears, she was finally able to chase her own dreams, and now she knew Zarishu had never once supported them. Never once approved. They could finally have the one thing they needed, and Mother was so disappointed that she'd cried.

The Qadiran mare tore west for the Whistling Plains, leaving the city, the rain, and marsh behind in the mud. Tallgrasses, the Taldan Horse’s guildhall, sat 15 miles out from Yanmass. It was situated in a shallow valley between high, rolling hills covered in steppe grass. She shifted back to vishkanya form once the hall was in site.

Tallgrasses was a sprawling structure of smooth gray stone.  
It was an unconventional mix of Taldan and Qadiran styles--arches, a large dome between two balconied upper levels, and an encircling covered porch. Which was a comforting sign. If the Taldans here were accepting of Qadirans (with whom the empire had a very recent, very flimsy truce), then they should be fine with other Casmars from the Padishah Empire.

Still, Yicaxi approached slowly and cautiously through the chest-high grass. Two low, rumbling growls stopped them in their tracks. Out in front of the courtyard were a pair of dire lions. They were immense predators even longer than their saber-toothed tiger, but only half as heavily muscled. Then inside the courtyard, resting in the grass, was an enormous, ivory-tusked elephant.

“Uh, hello? Anybody home?” they called out while trying to remain as still as possible.

They succeeded in making the seated lions rise to their feet. Ok, this could be going better.

[Fey Aspect activated]

Yicaxi pulled out the giant moth wings and flew up out of dire lion and elephant reach. Although the elephant seemed pretty happy to just keep lying in the spring sunshine.

They were just about to start yelling again when a lean, powerfully built human stepped out from the courtyard shadows. He/they were a Taldan with a sharp nose, close-cropped brown hair, and deeply tanned skin. The human squinted up at them with piercing green eyes.

“Better come down, stranger. You’re spookin’ the lions.”

Yicaxi flushed. They dropped down in a hurry and vanished their wings. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare anyone. I just came to sign up with the guild.”

“I can see you got,” they mimed wings, behind their muscled shoulders, “something, but you’re awful young to be a pathfinder.”

No. They weren’t getting turned down that easily. Yicaxi dug in their heels. “If I’m old enough to be forced into a marriage, then I’m old enough to make my own way in the world.”

The Taldan sucked his teeth. “Welp. Can’t argue with that. You got a name, vishkanya?”

“Yicaxi. Of Washfield.” His face burned darker, but he refused to be ashamed of the muddy ditch he’d come from.

“Washfield? That part of Yanmass?”

“The Wash basin, yeah.”

“Cool, not familiar. I’m from a real tiny village I promise ya you never heard of, so I always say I’m Jondeau of the Whistling Plains.”

“Oh. C-cool.”

“Right then, Yicaxi. Let’s get you to the captain.”

“You can--uh--just Caxi’s fine.”

“Caxi, huh?” Jondeau looked back over his shoulder. “Follow me.”

Yicaxi did. And somehow managed to keep from butting his head through a wall for turning into such a complete mess of goop in front of this easy-going, quietly powerful outdoorsy type. Was this a father-issues thing? He suspected himself of having a father-issues thing--he hadn’t had a father, after all.

He was so caught up in his own head that he walked right into Jondeau’s solid wall of a back. Oof! He jumped back, stammering apologies and glancing this way and that to see if he’d made a scene. But the halls were nearly empty, and the Taldan didn’t move an inch until he was opening the office door.

“Captain Jasal, we got us a prospect.”

The office, once opulent, had seen better days. One wall contained a massive bookshelf filled with carefully folded maps, ledgers, and scroll tubes. A large desk sat opposite, its chair of battered but neatly repaired leather. A middle-aged Keleshite woman occupied the desk with a five-foot long, bighorned ram at her side.

Captain Jasal had dark olive skin, a long braid of salt-and-pepper hair, and sharp black eyes lined from years of careful examination. She was powerfully built for any age, her muscles prominent and defined. She appraised Yicaxi with an impassive frown. “How old are you?”

The vishkanya suddenly realized her mistake in not lying to Jondeau earlier. Now there was no way she could go back and A-Thousand-Faces her age. “I--my name’s Yicaxi, of Washfield. I’m sixteen. Almost seventeen.”

The captain placed a clear, semi-spherical gemstone on the table. “Put your palm on the stone, and your assessment begins. Pass, and you can join our rookie division. Fail, and you go home.”

Horse biscuits! She’d walked straight into an examination. She gave the captain a wordless nod--too afraid to use her voice. Yicaxi wiped her sweating palm on her pants and placed it on the stone.

A soft, heatless glow of silvery white light shed through her fingers from the stone. The captain’s frown deepened. “You’re a silver rank, level 1.”

“I...don’t know what that means.”

“Nobody starts silver. Means you brought something over with you from your past life--only you know what. But your class level is 1. That is THE lowest level.” Captain Jasal shook her head. “What’s your class? I’m a hunter. Jondeau’s a ranger.”

She had to be talking about--that top part on her character sheet! “Yeah, I’m a ‘mesmerist 1!’ Do you two have menus too?”

“Yep, definitely a silver,” said Jondeau with an easy smile.

“No, we don’t,” said the captain. “Silvers are uncommon, especially out here in the boondocks. There’s only one other silver in Tallgrasses--you’ll meet him if you pass the assessment. Which is unlikely, for a mesmerist.”

“Unlikely? Why?”

“Mesmerist’s a squishy class. Most low-level casters don’t last half a second in dungeons--be a liability in the field. I’ve never passed a single level 1 arcane or psychic.”

“Then let me be the first.”

The captain snorted in amusement. “Ya got guts. Try not to spill ‘em. Jondeau, take Yicaxi to the testing grounds.”


	15. A New PC Enters the Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sixteen years have passed since the game came out in late March of 2020. Who could this new PC be? And what've they been doing all this time?

The testing grounds were a huge field out behind Tallgrasses that’d been grazed to a bald arena by the Taldan Horse’s horses. And elephant, Yicaxi guessed. Jondeau motioned for the vishkanya to follow him just inside the split rail fence.

“We’ll start ya out real easy,” said the Taldan. “I know you got wings, but there’ll be places in dungeons where you can’t use ‘em. Just jump as far lengthwise as ya can.”

Sounded simple enough. Yicaxi tensed and sprang.

“12 feet,” he nodded.

“Is that good? Bad? Average?”

“Don’t you mind averages for now. Captain Jasal’ll assess ya based on your overall performance. Now, come take a look here.”

There was a 20ft-high pole standing by the fence. Every five feet was marked by a stripe of peeling paint.

“Jump as high as ya can.”

His feet barely cleared the 10ft stripe. “Can I try again?”

“No such thing as a second chance out there.”

“Right. Noted.” 

He followed Jondeau down the fence-line to the next station. A couple of barrels were roped together with a bunch more standing along the fence.

“Gonna see if you can pull your own weight. If all’s good, I’ll keep adding barrels until ya tell me to stop.”

“Can I use my full strength?”

“You talkin’ magic?”

“Y-yes.”

“That’s cheatin’,” Jondeau winked.

Horse biscuits. She went magic-less and grabbed the rope. Dragging two barrels was easier than she’d expected. “Maybe throw on a couple more?”

The human rolled the water-filled barrels over one by one on the edge of their circular base. Huh. Did that mean they were heavy for them?

“I’m gonna add another,” said Yicaxi. She jogged over and grabbed a barrel. She hefted it up into her arms. Then onto her shoulder. Her balance was off, but she was still able to walk the barrel back to her bunch.

Yicaxi dragged the five barrels forward. She still had a little oomph left in her, but another full barrel might really jerk a muscle or joint out of place. “That--that’s it for me.”

“3200 pounds.” And zero indication from the proctor if that was good, bad, or middling. “Now climb up onto the fence.”

There was no way they meant that for taking a seat. Yicaxi grabbed hold of the top rail and jumped her feet up onto the inch-wide board. She inched her feet under her into a crouch and, cautiously, let go.

She wobbled but held her arms out like mini-wings to keep her balance. She rose, slowly, to her feet.

“Walk down to the next post.”

“Sure. Sure,” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t last three steps, falling with a yelp into the dust. Yicaxi sat up into a cloudy poof. “Am I dead?”

“Yep,” Jondeau chuckled. He offered them a hand. His firm grip made Yicaxi feel even more of a fool.

As they walked down to the next station, they noticed a group of five humanoids who’d come out to watch in the lengthening shadows of the afternoon. There were two Taldans, two halflings, the next most common race in Yanmass, and an antennae-horned tiefling--a race they’d never once seen in person.

“Don’t mind ‘em. They’re my rookies--took this test, same as you.”

And no doubt comparing scores. Yicaxi was just thankful they were too far away to hear any laughter when they fell off the rock wall. They weren’t a climber--all the forest around Yanmass had been logged off for the wealthy years ago.

“Let’s see how you do gettin’ out of trouble.”

At the next station, Jondeau dropped a net on them. But Yicaxi found the edge and slithered out as easy as a snake. Then he clapped a pair of manacles on them.

Yicaxi feared those posed the real problem. They would never have guessed how supple their scales were until wiggling them out themself. They actually managed to pull both hands free without breaking anything or worse, degloving.

Jondeau stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle at his rookie trainees. “Someone mind fetchin’ a horse?”

“Oh, hey, if you need a horse--” Yicaxi shifted into their fleet-footed Qadiran steed.

The proctor let out a genuine guffaw. “Y’aren’t fittin’ in the saddle like that, Caxi.”

They shifted back, face burning dark. They avoided looking at both Jondeau and the tiefling who brought the horse as best as they could, but they couldn’t help noticing the rookie was even younger than they were--he was probably just a year older than the twins.

“You horses know how to get into the saddle?” asked Jondeau.

It took some doing, but he got his foot in the stirrup and managed to swing his leg over.

“Ride down to the hurdle and clear it if you can.”

“O-ok.” He let the horse walk first to get a feel for its gait. And as soon as they were out of earshot, he leaned forward to whisper into its ear. “Hey there, friend. I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know how to make you jump, but I know you know. How to jump. Would you mind helping me out here?”

[Wild Empathy activated]

The horse sped up from a walk to a trot, from a trot to a gallop. Yikes! They were really doing this. Yicaxi held on for dear life.

But the horse knew what it was about. It cleared the hurdle with all the grace of a leaping animal. And slowed of its own accord as they came back around to the proctor.

The kid tiefling was still there. He was half a foot shorter than the vishkanya--not counting the antennae-horns. He had deep olive skin, one solid black eye, and one solid white eye. An unbroken scar bilaterally bisected his face from crown to chin. He had a whip-like, chitin-plated tail like a scorpion’s but without the stinger.

Yicaxi, still exhilarated from the jump, hopped down and slapped the reins into the tiefling’s palm. “Thanks, mind giving this horse a treat?”

“Sure, Caxi,” he said dryly.

Yicaxi rankled at the tiefling’s use of her familiar name, but it was too late. All the rookies must’ve heard Jondeau say it. Well, she could deal with that when it came to it. There was still no telling how she’d done on this test.

“Alright. There’s an animal trail right here--not the horse’s. Can you find it?”

“N-no.”

“Moving on.” They pulled a copper coin from their pocket and flipped it over to Yicaxi. “Make it vanish.”

“Make what vanish?” she asked cheekily, wiggling the fingers of her empty hands.

Jondeau chuckled and called over the rookies. They had them stand with their backs facing the vishkanya. “Now try putting that coin into someone’s pocket--the catch is, ya can’t let ‘em catch ya.”

Yicaxi nodded silently. They’d need extra moving to get low to the halflings, and they didn’t trust that tiefling’s antennae, so she picked a human--both of whom were only a few years older than her. By the time her target glanced back, she was already standing innocently by Jondeau’s side, fingers laced behind her head.

“That’s that. You ready for the combat portion?”

“YEAH! Fight! Fight! Fight!” chanted the rookies, all but the tiefling.

Yicaxi let out a nervous laugh. Like most merchants, she was a talker, not a fighter. Her serpentfolk and saber-toothed tiger forms seemed more geared for combat, but not the kind where her opponent walked away alive.

“Easy, half-caster. This ain’t a real fight.”

“Sure, sure.”

The proctor shifted into a loose, easy fighting stance. “Try to move past me without letting me get a hit on ya.”

Yicaxi stayed five feet away. They ran past as quickly and cautiously as they could.

Jondeau sprang. His hand snapped forward as fast as a mantis.

Yicaxi yelped and swerved out of the way. They spun back onto their course and ran past. Either they were too pumped with adrenaline to feel it, or the Taldan’s hand hadn’t hit.

“Again, but bring it in real close this time.”

“How close?”

“Close as ya can without gettin’ hit.”

Of course. Yicaxi let out a long breath. They bounced on the balls of their feet and shook out the building tension. “Okay, okay. Here we go.”

“Ya might not wanna announce yer--”

But the vishkanya was already moving, fast. Jondeau didn’t miss a flicker. His mantis hands flew into strikes.

Instead of blurring before their eyes, the world slowed to a crawl. Yicaxi’s serpentfolk eyes could track his motion through the air. They managed to angle themself just enough to snake around him without getting hit and stumble into a jog.

“Whew, okay, that it for the combat portion?”

“We got a ways to go.”

Dang it! 

Jondeau kept their easy smile and drew a sap from their belt. The weapon consisted of a soft, leather wrapping around a hard, dense metal core. The head was wider than the handle--designed to spread out the force of the blow so it didn’t draw blood or break bones. “Try disarmin’ me.”

“If I fail, are you gonna hit me?”

“Caxi, I couldn’t touch you when you were right in my face.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. That was true. He was way more slippery and dodgy now that he was a serpentfolk. Yicaxi took a much steadier breath. And went for it.

The sap flew out of the proctor’s hand. The testing grounds plunged into a deathly silence. Everyone, even Yicaxi, watched the sap arc and land with a dusty little poof.

A hand clapped his shoulder--Jondeau’s. The Taldan smiled wide. “I think we’re just gonna skip the chalk sparrin’.”

“I’ll do it,” said the tiefling.

“No, no, no,” said Yicaxi, waving his hands. “We can definitely skip ‘chalk sparring.’”

“You sure, Caxi? I know he don’t look much, but this here’s the Taldan Horse’s silver ranker.”

This was the other silver? His eyes met the tiefling’s. And were met impassively.

“Spar me, Caxi,” said the rookie punk.

He rankled. “Fine! How does chalk sparring work?”

It was fairly self-explanatory. Both combatants covered their hands in different colored chalk. Yicaxi got pastel green and the punk got pink. The first one to put a chalk-print on the other’s torso was the winner.

If you knocked all the chalk off your hands, you lost. If both combatants lost their chalk before a winning print, the match ended in a draw.

“And magic is off limits?” She had to ask just to make sure.

“Magic is cheatin’,” said the proctor/referee.

“Then I guess I’m ready.”

The tiefling simply jerked his chin.

“Silvers, fight!”

They circled each other, five feet apart in a fine, dusty haze. Yicaxi wanted this over as fast as possible. She shot forward, reaching for his chest.

There was an economy of movement to the way he shifted to dodge. In the same beat, his hands struck forward.

Yicaxi leaped back out of range. Mostly in shock. This younger teenage rookie was even faster than Jondeau. She suddenly began doubting the odds that she could land a hit.

Then the tiefling’s antennae were in her face. He’d leaped forward, soundless as a ghost. He struck.

Time slowed. She jolted out of the way of his pink palm. But the second hand blurred.

The tiefling reached through her defenses and tapped her smartly on the breastbone. It was like running full-speed into a rock.

“Yowch!” They staggered back. And looked down as best as they could at the three fingerprints of pink chalk on their shirt. They were definitely already bruising black and blue under the fabric.

[Spell cast: prestidigitation]

Yicaxi knocked the pink and green off into the rest of the arena dust. The tiefling didn’t see--he was already walking back to the wildly commentating rookies at the fence. Little punk.

Jondeau shook his head, still smiling. “Best to just let it go. Our silver’s a level 4 softstrike monk--he could beat the biscuits outta all of us.”

Oh, great. That explained his standoffish superiority complex. Yicaxi blew out a sigh. “Is that for the test?”

“Not quite. There’s still the indoor portion. But don’t you worry--between you ‘n’ me, you’ve already passed.”

The vishkanya smiled brilliantly. Half-heartedly. For some reason, that tiefling punk had really gotten under their skin. They’d never felt a more hollow, empty victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anatu's insectoid appearance comes from the fact he's now a qlippoth-spawn tiefling, aka one of "the motherless"


	16. Rookie Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yicaxi learns a bit more about the pathfinders and lets a bit more info about Reborn PCs into the world

Yicaxi was in such a mental funk after the chalk spar that the indoor assessment passed in a blur. The stone testing rooms were in an underground level of Tallgrasses. He had to estimate the depth of a cistern based on the echoes (80ft). He was told to find a secret door (he found two).

He discovered he could jam a lock but couldn’t pick one. He could read lips from across the room. He could activate a magic item without knowing its command word, thought, or action, but he couldn’t identify an unmarked potion under pressure.

At some point, he was finally allowed to sit down. Jondeau sat opposite and showed him some flashcards--an oral exam. He had to explain how to provide simple first aid to a wounded ally. But there was a lot he couldn’t do.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of a “flawed” structural blueprint. He was somehow able to identify undead, planar outsiders, and magical beasts along with regular animals, but he didn’t know a lick about aberrations and oozes.

He couldn’t break a cipher under pressure, but he did know a lot more than he’d expected about Taldor’s history, nobility, and who’s who in Yanmass. He must’ve picked it up from the random gossip in the bazaar.

Finally, FINALLY, the proctor scooched his chair back. He stood up and stretched. “That’s that. Ya hungry?”

“Starving,” said the vishkanya, standing and shaking out his leaden limbs.

“Let’s get outta here.” As soon as they were back up into the main hall, Jondeau let out another piercing whistle. The rookies assembled in seconds. “Ya’ll take Yicaxi to the mess hall. I’ll be takin’ your results to Captain Jasal.”

The rookies’ chattering hubbub was too much to take in. It was all Yicaxi could do to let them surround her and lead her away. 

The orange gold light of the late afternoon filled the simple, empty mess hall with a peaceful, comforting warmth. One halfling and one human broke off from the group to dash to the kitchens--they were on meal duty. The others sat opposite Yicaxi at the table, except for Anatu. He took the seat at the head of their table.

“Okay, so your name’s Yicaxi? Where are you from? What’s your class?” asked the halfling, Narowei.

“Uh, yes. Washfield. Mesmerist?”

“Washfield? Wealthy Father, good thing you joined the Taldan Horse,” said Gentus, the Taldan.

“What do you mean?”

“Only the mud poor come from Washfield. But you’re a silver, right? Must be some kinda karma.”

She rankled inside but kept up her business-pleasant face. She might’ve been surrounded by elitist mud-brains, but they clearly knew more about this silver rank business than she did. “Again, sorry, I’m totally lost. Just assume I know absolutely nothing.”

“Wow, you must’ve really bombed the oral portion,” Narowei giggled but not unkindly.

“You don’t remember anything?” asked Anatu. They were the first words he’d said since the match. That dry tone of his grated in her ears and set her teeth on edge.

It took some effort to pry her smile open enough to speak. “What would I have to remember? I only heard about silvers for the first time when I got here.”

“No shame in that,” said Gentus. “It’s a brand new field.”

“Yeah, none of the pathfinders really know what makes someone go from bronze to silver rank,” said Narowei, “but it has something to do with the dungeons. Silvers are like, bronze but reborn into a new class and even a new race.”

“They carry over some skills and abilities from their past lives,” said Gentus. “Right, Anatu?”

The tiefling gave a wordless jerk of his chin.

“Huh. I actually...I didn’t know I had any abilities until a couple days ago.”

Narowei gasped. “What day?”

“My birthday. The first of Gozran.”

The halfling shrieked. The human winced. Only Anatu remained unphased.

“That’s Anatu’s birthday!” she screamed, pulling out a field journal and charcoal pencil. “We just made a breakthrough in silver studies!”

“Or it could be coincidence,” said Gentus. They too pulled a field journal from the fine leather satchel at their side. “Sample size, Nar. Sample size matters.”

“Whatever! Just let me collect my data. So. Silver rank Yicaxi, how old are you? Are you 14 too?”

“16.”

“We saw you turn into a horse,” said Gentus. “That doesn’t seem like a mesmerist ability.”

“No, it’s listed under ‘Reborn abilities.’” Yicaxi only realized their mistake as the words left their mouth. Their character sheet contained sensitive information about their true race. They shouldn’t have referenced it at all.

“What do you mean listed?” asked Narowei.

Time to make use of that Consummate Liar bonus. “I have this list in my head of all my abilities. They’re split into ‘Reborn’ and ‘Class’ abilities.”

“Hold up,” said Gentus. “Did this mental list pop up on the first? If so, was there anything that triggered it?”

A grain of truth for flavor. “I had a run-in with smugglers on the canal that night. I got shot with a crossbow bolt and passed out. When I woke up, I wasn't just a carpet vendor anymore.”

"Did you DIE?" asked Narowei.

"I...don't know." They were 'Reborn' abilities, after all.

"Moving on then," said Gentus, apathetically. It was clear their only interest in the vishkanya was as an object of study. "If you tell us your Reborn abilities, perhaps we can piece together your past class from the pathfinders' class roster."

Interesting. So this 'class' business really was a pathfinder thing. "I have two abilities that have 'shifter' in the name. Is that a--"

"Yes! Shifter's a class! That must've been your past life's class!" For all her enthusiasm, Yicaxi still got the sense that he was little more than an object of study for Narowei as well. 

The least he could do was get some answers of his own out of these rookies. "What are shifters?"

"They're like druids without spells and a more limited but focused connection to certain animals," said Gentus. "But a shifter would've been able to find a trail earlier. You must not have retained all your previous abilities."

"That's too bad, but you're already a serious combatant if you could disarm Jondeau," said the halfling. She put the tip of her pencil to her tongue and turned the page. “Is there anything else on your mental list beside abilities?”

Better give these two budding scientists something--it somehow seemed more suspicious if she didn’t. “I--I can see my spells.”

“Shifters don’t have spells, so that must be a mesmerist thing,” said the Taldan.

“Actually, since we’ll be working together, why don’t you tell us all your abilities,” said Narowei. “We’ll pass this all along to Jondeau, too.”

When she put it like that, there was next to no argument not to. So Yicaxi listed all her spells and spell-likes. She listed every ‘Class ability’ except Consummate Liar and mentioned the telepathy. She listed every ‘Reborn ability’ except Defensive Instinct and Timeless Body, which were ‘passive.’

For some reason, she didn’t say anything about her special Captivating Lure attack. There was just something...insidious about its very nature. A mental attack that pulled a person toward them and forced them to take no actions against her attacks--it was like the nightmare ability of some monster in a fey tale.

By the time she’d finished, the halfling and Taldan on meal duty brought out a steaming cauldron of hearty, red lamb and vegetable stew. They ran back into the kitchen and came out with a large bowl of fresh salad and a huge platter of hot, buttered pita.

The rookies gave the vishkanya a very, very welcome break from interrogation. Yicaxi--who was even more starving than earlier--joined them in scarfing down as much as they could. They were lucky they did, as it happened. Jondeau showed up five minutes later to bring Yicaxi back to the captain’s office.

They felt saved, walking away. Then it hit them that they had learned absolutely nothing about Anatu’s silver/Reborn abilities. Well, whatever. They’d be working together--unless the tiefling made full pathfinder first. Which seemed pretty plausible since he was already three levels ahead of them.

Captain Jasal and her bighorn ram were right at the desk where they’d last seen them. Yicaxi dropped into the opposite seat feeling at least a year old since just earlier this afternoon, nevermind this morning--that seemed a literal lifetime ago.

“If you’re still interested in the Taldan Horse, I’d like to take you on as a rookie,” said the captain. “It’s a trainee position, so 100 gp a month plus room and board. When Jondeau feels you’re ready, you’ll be promoted to a fully-fledged pathfinder. Your salary’ll increase to 200 a month from the Taldan Horse or nearest other guildhall. You’ll also be able to join our dungeon raids and receive an equal share of the raided loot. How’s that sound, Yicaxi?”

“Could I, uh, get an advance?” That interrogation had broken any notion of shame out of them for the rest of the day. And Gentus had been right--their family WAS mud-poor. All four of them had to get by on 25 gp a month.

Captain Jasal’s eyes narrowed. “I can advance you half, rookie.”

“Yes, done. Thank you, Captain. There is, uh--”

“What?”

“Could I get that money delivered to an address in Washfield?”

The captain sighed and rolled her eyes. 

Jondeau laughed. “I’ll take care of it. You must be wiped after today. My crew show ya the barracks?”

He shook his head.

“Follow me. You just use today to wash up and rest. You’ll be plenty busy tomorrow.”

The rookies had their own separate barracks from the pathfinders’ barracks, Jondeau explained. Officers like him, his partner (the lieutenant), and Captain Jasal had permanent positions here at Tallgrasses, so they got their own private quarters.

The rookie barracks were sparse but clean. The bunk beds were neatly made. Each had a pair of footlockers under the bottom bunk. Yicaxi picked out a free bunk bed and the officer handed him a key.

“I’ll getcha your rookie gear in the morning. The bathroom and towels are just through there.” He tilted his head toward the door at the back. “I’ll tell my crew to leave ya alone tonight.”

“Thanks, thanks for everything, Jondeau.”

“Nothin’ to it. Just be ready to wake up early. I like to run a tight ship.”

Yicaxi hadn’t planned on bathing now that he had his prestidigitation spell, but he couldn’t help taking a peek in the bathroom once the Taldan was gone. There was a big wooden tub in addition to a pail for dumping water. The vishkanya had never been able to take a soak before.

He couldn’t resist. Yicaxi filled the tub with water, warmed it to steaming, and used enough soap to make a fluffy, scented froth of bubbles. “Ahhhh!”

She never expected to find the lap of luxury in the Taldan Horse, but here she was. Luxuriating in an honest-to-goods bubble bath. Ol’ Lady Luck Desna was finally smiling down on her.

There was a knock at the door. Her smile soured. One of those nosy rookies was defying a direct do-not-disturb order from their commanding officer.

The vishkanya grabbed a towel, keeping the bath warm with prestidigitation, and opened the door a crack. She was met with an antenna and a solid white eye. “What do you want, Anatu?”

Somehow, the name sounded like a curse on her tongue. That dang punk.

“We need to talk.”

“I’m taking a bath!” she hissed, even more venemously.

The tiefling’s voice dropped to a barely audible hush. “It’s about the shard.”

The vishkanya’s blood ran ice cold. The Shard of Envy, the cursed artifact that’d been ‘Reborn’ with her. 

“How--how do you know about that?” she asked telepathically. Knowledge was a trade--you had to give a little to get a little. Or a lot. She opened the door. “Tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Item added to Inventory: locker key]


	17. 14 Years Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yicaxi learns a whole bunch of backstory

His name was Anatu, of Windsong. Fourteen years ago, he was a cleric in distant Varisia on the western coast of Avistan. And the last keeper of the Shard of Envy.

One fateful day, he met a fey horse named Caxi the Cleaner. The horse took the shard from him. In exchange, the Cleaner gave him the seed of a new kind of magic. It was called a Reborn Point, and it opened the cleric’s eyes to an entirely new dimension in this world.

The fey horse used his/her/their own RP to vanish with the shard. Anatu realized he had no choice but to do the same to keep others safe from the cursed artifact.

He was Reborn silver and fully cognizant to a wild, enigmatic elf. All others knew about her was that she wintered in the Verduran Forest and only ventured out in spring and summer to fight in bloody ring matches in city underbellies. She was in the ring in Yanmass when she gave birth to Anatu.

As a qlippoth-spawn, the tiefling’s gory, accursed birth took the fighter’s life. Right there in the warehouse arena of Grava’s Entertainments. The owner, Grava, was a saleswoman. She realized at once that she had quite the product, story, and potential fighter on her hands.

She took in the tiefling as a future ring fighter and raised him as such. For his part, Anatu accepted that he was too young for anyone to take him seriously. But also that there was value in the rigorous martial training she put him through.

He could have become any kind of fighter, brawler, slayer, or the like, but he chose to combine her teachings with the meditations and healing knowledge of the body from his clerical past. In doing so, he unlocked his class of ‘monk.’

At the age of 12, he decided he had learned as much as he could from Grava’s training and was old enough to be taken seriously. He ran away from the Entertainments on the very night that he was slated to take part in his first illegal ring match.

He had learned from the idle gossip of Grava’s patrons about the Taldan Horse. To have lost the shard to a fey horse only to be reborn in a city with such a prominent guildhall with a similar name--he had never known fate to be subtle, and it clearly wasn’t starting now.

Captain Jasal was doubtful and full of queries, but the pathfinder’s rank-divining ioun stone didn’t lie. She took him in--with the proviso that despite his previous lifetime, she would never promote him to full-fledged pathfinder until his physical body had come of age--and put him under Jondeau’s supervision.

The monk, a continual practitioner of patience, accepted the captain’s terms. He trained and bided his time, waiting for the next unsubtle sign of fate. “Which, of course, was you.”

It was a lot. It was a lot to take in. Especially because there wasn’t a hint of untruth to any of it. It was, in fact, the most depressingly factual story Yicaxi had ever heard told.

The vishkanya and the tiefling sat six feet apart on the tiled step of the bathroom. The wooden tub sat in the slight depression in front of them, its water cold and bubble-less. There was only darkness from the small square of window behind them.

Yicaxi finally lifted his towel-turbaned head off his folded arms and huddled knees. He’d wanted to learn more about his past life, and now he had. He used to be a shapeshifting, fey horse trickster--that tracked. “Caxi the Cleaner, reborn in Washfield. Yeah, not subtle.”

“Not a whit,” said Anatu without turning his head from the tiled wall.

“So, what was your plan for the shard?”

“That depends on your answer. You’ve carried the shard for 16 years--how is it you haven’t been affected?”

“How do you know when someone is?”

“Again, it isn’t subtle. The artifact’s overwhelming magic aura immediately inflicts its curse upon its carrier. Over time, the carrier’s mind is completely eroded until they become an id-driven shadow of their former self, and a caricature of the shard’s evil.”

“Yikes. Pretty lucky I’m immune to mind-affecting effects. Are you the same?”

“Not in this body. Caxi, I have to ask your help.”

“First off, it’s Yi-caxi. Secondly, do you really need a plan now? I can just take this shard to my grave.”

“And then some spellcaster will detect its aura, retrieve, and place the world in peril all over again.”

“Imperiling the world seems a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Yicaxi, the shards are possessed of evil--they call to those in power. And the Shard of Envy isn’t safe with you. When we were sparring, I broke through your defenses. All around the world, silvers even more powerful than I are coming of age. One ill-fated encounter, and the shard is lost--no, they must be destroyed.”

Ok, yeah, she could definitely hear the cleric in there. And he’d said something worrisome. “How many shards are there?”

“Seven in total, six unaccounted for. Only once rejoined as the seven arms of the Sihedron can they be destroyed.”

Yicaxi’s head was already aching from everything they’d learned today, but they had to ask, “What’s the Sihedron?”

The tiefling explained with monkly patience. During the Age of Legend, the archmage Xin, founder of ancient Thassilon, joined together the seven kinds of skymetal into the arms of a seven-pointed star. This was the Sihedron, symbol of the Thassilonian Empire itself. It was disassembled by the seven apprentices who usurped Old Xin, they who became the first of Thassilon’s Runelords.

“The ancient empire fell into evil and then into collapse thanks to every ruler being twisted and possessed by a shard. Needless to say, we can’t allow that to happen again in our time.”

Yicaxi had to admit he had a point. “Alright, let’s hear this plan.”

“We get a cleric to cast a discern location spell to divine the location of the other six shards. It’s a powerful spell and therefore costly, but I’ve been saving up ever since I got here. I only need 600 gp more--that’s three months’ pay if we pool our resources.”

“Uh, four months. I can only put away half my salary.”

“You can make money when we get back.”

“No--I--it’s not for me, okay?”

“Understood. Sorry.” He stood, still keeping his eyes averted. “I’m sincerely grateful for all your cooperation. If there’s nothing else you want to know, I’ll go--I’ve imposed enough already.”

“Yeah, we can talk more tomorrow.”

In the evening darkness, the monk’s impassive mask slipped. Weirdly enough, it was a flash of discomfort. But Yicaxi was also cracking under the weight of this endless day. It was way too late to get into whatever that was, so they brushed it off.

But maybe they should’ve pressed when they’d had the chance. It turned out Jondeau wasn’t kidding when he said he ran a tight ship. The rookie’s day began before first light. 

They had to grab what breakfast they could from the kitchen and meet their commanding officer at the stables. They saddled up and rode off to patrol the caravan routes. Monsters were few along these paths that’d been used for decades, so the rookies acted mostly as a deterrent to bandits and as a helping hand to traders and travelers.

The morning traffic dwindled by mid-morning, which was when they rode back to Tallgrasses. Jondeau had them do their physical training before lunch. Then it was time for chores--most of which involved cleaning the entire guildhall and stables or taking care of the animals.

If they finished early, they had about an hour to themselves before dinner. Unless they were on meal duty. After dinner, they rode back to patrol the caravans traveling in the last light of the day. This was when trouble was more likely to strike, but Lieutenant Fathrie, Jondeau’s partner, and his/her/their desert drake always joined them on the Whistling Plains for the evening patrol. The mere sight of the 15ft-long dragon practically guaranteed their safety.

By the time they returned, it was dark and everyone was too wiped to do much more than wash up and pass out. They slept and the day would begin again.

It was a rigid, demanding schedule. Which actually made it easier to get sucked into its routine. It was just...lonely, was all.

It turned out that Anatu actively avoided everyone, even Yicaxi despite their joint plans. Although it was kinda understable. He was some old cleric going through a second puberty--that had to be awkward.

Narowei and Gentus were always up to talk, but they only wanted to interrogate the vishkanya for their silver studies. The other two rookies couldn’t stand Yicaxi or Anatu BECAUSE they were silvers.

Which left Yicaxi on their own and sorely missing their family, especially the twins. So they chatted with the traders and travelers every chance they got. And casually practiced their suggestion and charm person on the surlier or snobbier ones.

They also genuinely enjoyed Jondeau’s physical training regimen. Yicaxi learned their way around all kinds of simple weaponry. But the best part was challenging their strength as a saber-toothed tiger, their speed as a horse, and their defense as a turtle, and even their dexterity as a peacock. It was as close to actual combat as they dared to come.

With no one to really talk to in their free time, the vishkanya found themself heading to the Taldan Horse’s library/archives. They swallowed their taste for more traditional, fanciful tales, and took up the dry histories of Xin, Thassilon, and the Runelords.

It turned out that Old Xin was an exile of Azlant, a lost continent in the Arcadian Ocean west of Avistan. It was the first center of human civilization on Golarion. According to myth, these Azlanti warred for years with “a race known as serpentfolk” and drove them off the face of the earth.

The Azlanti had this messed up idea that humans were the greatest race on Golarions. The archmage Xin was exiled for his/their teachings otherwise. And combining Azlanti magic with that of the “lesser races” to create the beginnings of modern magic accessible to all.

He and his followers arrived on the Varisian coast and there founded the Thassilonian Empire. As they expanded east, they ran into the opposition of native peoples and races. But Old Xin was out to create a paradise for all and would accept no resistance to his vision of such.

He needed more power, so he turned his efforts into the creation of the Sihedron. In the meantime, he left the rule of his empire to his seven apprentices. He was so caught up in his research and pursuit of power that he never realized his apprentices’ secret alliance--they were just waiting for him to finish his masterpiece.

He did. And he died, usurped and assassinated. His apprentices each took one shard and the title of Runelord. Each one became a tyrannical despot of their region of Thassilon. They allied with evil dragons and enslaved entire armies of giants to keep their subjects crushed underfoot.

Some blamed the Runelords’ endless, wanton pursuit of power for the cataclysmic event that ended not only their empire but wreaked havoc throughout all of Golarion. They called it Earthfall.

According to legend, the stars of the heavens themselves fell to earth to purge Golarion of the evils of Thassilon. They wiped out Thassilon and sank the entire continent of Azlant while they were at it. The earthquakes and massive tidal waves actually created the Inner Sea, which Taldor bordered along its southern coast.

It was the dust that proved the most deadly. It settled in Golarion’s upper atmosphere and blotted out the sun from the entire world for 1,000 years, creating the Age of Darkness. Basically setting every sentient race left on the face of the planet back by a millennium or more.

In short, Anatu had actually undersold the threat of these shards. With every passing day, Yicaxi grew more anxious, more restless as the shard-keeper until he wondered if the cursed artifact was affecting his mind after all. But spring rolled without disaster into the alternately blazing and steaming days of rainy summer.

Soon, Yicaxi was counting down the last days of Erastus, the seventh month. Arodus, the last month of summer was drawing near. With it, the beginning of their world-saving scheme. She could only hope their training had been enough--even knowing without a doubt that it wasn’t.

[Level up: Mesmerist 2]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 2]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 0 RP  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 39 (+12 Dex, +3 natural armor, +14 defensive instinct)  
> HP: 30  
> Fortitude: +9  
> Reflex: +15  
> Will: +22  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 45ft, 45ft fly  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite +13/8/3 (4d6+10 plus poison/x3, primary), 2 claws +13 (1d8, secondary), hoof kick or tail slap +13 (1d8, secondary)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic, detect psychic significance  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person, implant urge
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 24  
> Dexterity: 34  
> Constitution: 24  
> Intelligence: 22  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 31
> 
> Skills: (13/26 ranks)  
> Appraise +10, Bluff +15, Disguise +14, Arcana +10, History +10, Local +10, Nature +10, Nobility +10, Planes +7, Religion +10, Linguistics +10, Spellcraft +10, Use Magic Device +18
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats: (1/1)  
> Spell Focus (enchantment)
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear, Towering Ego, Gift of Will
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: locker key, save-the-world funds (200 gp)  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy


	18. The Wild Colts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new party rides into town

It was the first of Arodus and last heat of summer. Yicaxi woke before dawn as usual but neither he nor Anatu headed out of the barracks with the other rookies. He’d requested a week of familial leave from Captain Jasal and assumed the tiefling had done the same. 

Anatu joined him as he added his rookie field gear to his Inventory. “You ready?”

They were the first words he’d said to Yicaxi in four months. And if he were being honest, that pissed him off. He grunted in grumpy affirmation.

“Good, because it’s a 9-day ride to Oppara--” he looked away toward the barracks window, “7 days if we can use your Qadiran horse form.”

“Woah! What? Can’t we buy the casting in Yanmass?”

“There’s no cleric in Yanmass powerful enough. Our only choice is Archbanker Paril at the Temple of Abadar in the capital.”

“I only have seven days of leave!” And he’d actually planned on using some of that to see his family. “The Taldan Horse is gonna think we’ve gone AWOL.”

“It’ll be safer for everyone if they do. There’s no telling who might come after us after using their own discern location spell.”

Yicaxi huffed and grit his teeth. The monk was right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Actually, he hated it. Not only would he be unable to even say goodbye to his family, but he’d also have to carry this tiefling punk on his back the entire time.

“Don’t worry, when we get within a day’s ride of major settlements, we’ll be able to fast travel,” said Anatu. Dryly and unhelpfully.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s a limited form of teleportation available to Reborns. It’ll take you to any known point on your Map within a day’s worth of travel, but both the distance and the time will pass in the blink of an eye.”

Huh. That sounded bearable--much more than spending eight to ten hours lugging the tiefling’s weight around.

“That reminds me--we’ll need to create a ‘party’ in the menu to fast travel together.”

Yicaxi pulled up her menu. Sure enough, there was an option to party up, including a suggestion for a party name. “Who are we, ‘the Waterbois?’”

“That makes no sense. But we do need a party name.”

Well, they weren’t technically part of the Taldan Horse yet. “How about ‘the Wild Colts?’”

“Sure.”

As dawn broke over the Whistling Plains, the Wild Colts rode south into the summer rains. Descending from the rolling plains into the marshes around Yanmass, Yicaxi galloped into a downpour and a rapidly rising cloud of fog.

It was a little suspicious how fast that cloud had popped up. More suspicious was the large, bestial shadow blinking in and out of existence at the edge of the cloud.

“Hold on,” the horse said telepathically. She didn’t wait for Anatu’s response.

[Fey Aspect activated: dire tiger]

The accursed gaze of a single, glowering green eye met theirs. It belonged to an enormous, horse-sized hound, its flanks matted with filth and gore--

“A black shuck!” said the monk. “Don’t look in its eye!”

Too late. But the mesmerist and their new Towering Ego had little to fear from the curse of a simple magical beast.

The tiger threw off the black shuck’s curse with a resounding roar. A truly wild instinct sparked alive from some deep well inside them. Yicaxi watched as though from a distance as they sprang into a vicious, venemous mauling.

Their poison-dripping fangs chomped into the hound’s throat. Their claws raked through the red, grievous wounds.

The black shuck howled in pain. Its diseased maw snapped back, claws following. The serpentfolk’s fast-acting poison had already contaminated its bloodstream. The hound’s strength was sapped. It couldn’t land a single hit.

It didn’t stand a chance against the fey, dire tiger. Yicaxi snapped back into their body--roaring over the mauled carcass and covered in blood not their own.

[Fey Aspect: deactivated]

Their roar jumped to a horrified scream. Yicaxi fell back, gripping their sides. Slithered back. They looked down at themself from an elongated neck. Serpentfolk, they were a serpentfolk.

Their golden, snake-pupiled eyes--the only part of them that remained unchanged--met the tiefling’s through the dark curtain of falling rain. Anatu, that butt, that absolute butt, faced them as impassively as always.

“Caxi, Yicaxi, you’re okay. You’re going to be okay. Are you hurt? A black shuck’s bite will inflict disease if we don’t treat it. Were you bitten?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t trust his voice--physical or telepathic. He was pretty sure he was crying, but the rain and the shock of his kill made it hard to tell.

“Good. That’s good news. Excellent news,” the monk blathered. They were the most words he’d spoken since they’d set out. “And now we have meat--even better news.”

He knelt down and pulled a field knife from his Inventory, so it seemed to materialize fully-formed in his hand. “You should turn around if you don’t want to see this. It only works for Reborns, but eating monsters can restore our hit points. But obviously we can’t haul an entire monster around with us--I’m just gonna, uh, carve off portions to put--”

“Please stop talking,” Yicaxi finally managed to croak.

Anatu nodded wordlessly and fell to his bloody work. Yicaxi turned around and shifted back into a vishkanya. She continued to hug her arms. The rain had lightened to a steady but gentle drip by the time she heard the tiefling rise back to his feet.

“Are we going to talk about it?” she asked without turning.

“If it makes you feel better. You’re a completely different person in mortal combat. It’s terrifying but also a relief. I have much more confidence in you now as the keeper of--”

Yicaxi spun around. “No, you butt! I mean the fact that I’m really a 6ft snake.”

Vishkanya and tiefling, bloody and soaked, stared each other down across the sodden marsh and the butchered monster corpse. Yicaxi dug in her heels, hands curling to fists at her sides. Anatu cleared his throat with a cough.

“Well, nobody’s perfect.”

Yicaxi shook. They doubled over, slapping their knee in tear-jerking laughter. Tears blurred their vision, but they could’ve sworn a smile had cracked the monk’s mask.

[Fey Aspect: Qadiran horse]

“It’s too soon to camp.”

“Right.” Anatu swung back into the borrowed saddle.

[Spell cast: prestidigitation]

There was no point wicking off the water while the rain continued to fall, but the two could at least leave the gore behind. “There’s something else. If you want it, I can lend you my Will save in case we run into any more black shucks.”

Or worse. Who knew what dangers stood between them and the city of Oppara all the way south on the Inner Sea coast? Better safe than sorry behind their hefty Towering Ego bonus.

“I’d appreciate it, thanks.”

[Trick implanted: Gift of Will]

Precautions taken, the Wild Colts galloped back onto their southward course. The journey passed faster after the sense of truce between them. And the ‘fast travel.’

On the second day, they crossed the Falling River and were able to fast travel to the outskirts of the small settlement known as Faldamont. The time and space had passed in the blink of an eye, but the Reborns couldn’t escape the weariness of the day’s worth of journeying they’d missed.

They made camp, taking watches, and rested up for the next jump to Maheto in the northern foothills of the World’s Edge Mountains. 

Yicaxi had never seen mountains. They were vast, jagged, snow-capped, and a nigh impassable boundary between eastern Avistan and Western Casmaron. What’s more, the morning was clear and crisp after the cleansing rains. 

“I know we’re on a mission,” said the vishkanya, “but I need you to give me an hour. I’m gonna go hike, just a little.”

“Can I, uh, come?”

Yicaxi grinned at the tiefling punk. “First time seeing mountains, too?”

“First time in a lifetime.”

“Sure,” he nodded and sighed. 

Anatu alternated between seeming as young as the twins and as old as the River Mother. It was impossible to guess which face he’d take--made harder by the fact he strove to remain as expressionless as possible.

At least tiefling’s presence wasn’t a weight anymore. Yicaxi was free to just enjoy himself, the trail, and the World’s Edge. Just before it was time to turn back, he froze.

“Yicaxi?” Anatu asked telepathically. He padded noiselessly up behind the vishkanya’s shoulder on the narrow trail.

Yicaxi pointed. There in the crags was the nest of a giant magical beast. It had the wings of a bird, the body of a lion, and the head of ram with wise, ancient eyes. It was a criosphinx, “soothsayer” of warm hills and deserts.

The criosphinx’s eyes met theirs. The tiefling tensed. But Yicaxi nodded at the beautiful, wild creature and slowly raised her empty hands.

[Wild Empathy activated]

Its goat eyes blinked. The criosphinx turned away and raised its horned head to the wind.

Yicaxi looked over at Anatu, grinning like a clown. The tiefling...smiled back. They turned back from the World’s Edge, walking down the mountain in joyous silence.

On the seventh day, the Wild Colts reached the port city of Oppara. The Taldan Empire’s thriving capital was a shining monument to grandeur and majesty seated on the black cliffs of the River Porthmos. 

Taldor’s foremost trade center, domestic sailing vessels from the river crossed paths with international ships from all over the Inner Sea. Not only was it the nation’s economic heart but the political heart as well, hosting both the Imperial Palace and the marble halls of the senate.

The Wild Colts were greeted by the two magically animated lion sculptures roaring under the rain atop Oppara’s main gate. The horse shifted back into a vishkanya. Together, they passed through with the rest of colorful merchant traffic into a totally new and foreign world.

Public fountains and marble statues were found at every major crossroads and plazas. Columned villas and grandiose temples from every age of Taldor’s history lined the streets. Buildings were made of carved stone, and the roads were paved with either intricate mosaics or well-fitted cobblestones. Oppara’s advanced public works had withstood the test of time, including the network of stone gutters keeping those streets clear of the seasonal rain.

Wide-eyed and one breathtaking sight away from gasping, the two gingerly picked their way down the vibrant, bustling streets to Canal Row. The Cathedral of Coins did it--had them gasping--but not in a good way.

Part temple and part bank, Abadar’s church was topped with a dome of silver and gold. Marble fountains decorated either side of the church steps. Within, a cleric sermonized to an ostentatiously dressed crowd in the pews about the wealth of the nobility and stability in the countryside as signs of the Wealthy Father’s favor.

It was disgusting. This wasn’t a church to the god of cities. It was a temple to the rich and noble who kept the common subjects of said cities squashed under their thumb in abject poverty.

Yicaxi had to work harder than normal to keep their smile in place as Anatu approached the acolyte receptionist of the clerical offices. Even they were decked out in the finest of fibers.

“Good afternoon,” said the tiefling, as dryly as ever. “We’d like to purchase the casting of a discern location spell.”

The receptionist raised a snooty but understandably quizzical brow. “Are you sure you peasant children don’t mean a ‘locate object’ or ‘locate creature’ spell?”

“We’re sure.”

“Very well. That will be 4000 gp.”

“That scroll only costs 3000 gp.”

“You’re paying for a casting, not a scroll, and a casting will require ten minutes of Archbanker Paril’s exceedingly valuable time.”

A muscle flexed in the tiefling’s jaw.

1000 gp for ten minutes--that was worse than highway robbery! It was a whole highway caravan murder!

“That’s rid--” Anatu stopped at Yicaxi’s tug on his sleeve.

He artfully spun the monk back to take his place at the counter. “Let’s let the merchants talk, shall we?”

[Spell cast: charm person]

“We’re friends, you and I, aren’t we, Ms. Acolyte?”

The charmed receptionist nodded, a dazed smile on her lips. The vishkanya raised his own eyebrows. That spell focus feat he’d picked up was really putting an oomph on his enchantment spells.

“And as my friend, you know that I’m both good for my money and always pay you back at my earliest convenience.”

She nodded. Of course she knew that. They were best friends, trusted friends.

[Spell cast: implant urge: generosity]

“Then how about you give me the discern location spell scroll now, and I’ll pay you back for it later.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” The acolyte walked to the wall of scrolls behind her. “How’s the end of the week sound? That’s when accounting’s due.”

“It’s a date.” Yicaxi received the scroll with a far more genuine smile than he had entering this gods-forsaken temple. “But if you don’t see me, I highly recommend fudging the numbers this week. Trust me--Archbanker Paril doesn’t need another copper.”

The receptionist giggled behind her hand. She waved her dashing vishkanya friend off, utterly charmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 2]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 0 RP  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 39 (+12 Dex, +3 natural armor, +14 defensive instinct)  
> HP: 30  
> Fortitude: +9  
> Reflex: +15  
> Will: +22  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 45ft, 45ft fly  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite +13/8/3 (4d6+10 plus poison/x3, primary), 2 claws +13 (1d8, secondary), hoof kick or tail slap +13 (1d8, secondary)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic, dancing lights  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person, implant urge
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 24  
> Dexterity: 34  
> Constitution: 24  
> Intelligence: 22  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 31
> 
> Skills: (16/26 ranks)  
> Appraise +10, Bluff +15, Disguise +14, Arcana +10, History +11, Local +10, Nature +10, Nobility +10, Planes +7, Religion +10, Linguistics +10, Spellcraft +10, Use Magic Device +18, Ride +13, Geography +7
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats: (1/1)  
> Spell Focus (enchantment)
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear, Towering Ego, Gift of Will
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: locker key, save-the-world funds (200 gp), rookie field gear  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy


	19. The Wild Colts Go West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No level ups, but Yicaxi does pick up some skill ranks

Yicaxi's acolyte-enchanting spells were good for two hours, but the Wild Colts decided better not to press their luck. They high-tailed it out of Oppara with their stolen scroll and made camp in the black cliffs.

A rocky overhang added shelter from the rain. Below, a sea of colorful sails milled around the city's two harbors and entire waterfront. Yicaxi, reminded of the Tent City bazaar, felt a strong pang of homesickness. But he wiped his eyes on his magic-dried sleeve and joined Anatu by the fire.

The tiefling had the last two portions of their black shuck meat on skewers. He watched them smoke over the fire, black and white eyes impassive.

"I know that didn't work out like we'd planned, but you used to be a cleric, right? You know how to cast it?"

"I know HOW. I'm just not able to. I'm no longer a vessel for any magic required to cast it. You're the one with magic and magic affinity--you have to cast it."

"What happens if I can't?"

"You'll take damage, potentially with unknown magical side effects, AND expend the one use we have of the scroll. We'll have to go back for another AND avoid arrest." Oh yeah, he was pissed.

"Alright, well, your sulking? It's not helping."

"I'm not sulking!" he snapped. "You're the one who decided to play fey trickster at the one place in the whole empire where we could get this stupid casting done right."

"In hindsight, sure, I probably should've haggled down the price, but come on--they deserved it."

"That's not the point! This mission is so much bigger than you, and you jeopardized it because you, what--you weren’t thinking or was it petty, meaningless revenge?"

Oh. Yeah, that was bad. “I--I’m sorry, ok?”

“No! No. It’s not ok. The next time you’re about to make some big, plan-altering decision, you HAVE to consult me. We’re a team, Yicaxi. I can’t do this without you, but it isn’t gonna work even with your help unless we’re on the same page.”

“I--yeah. You’re right. For the record, I’m sorry I didn’t consult you back at the temple. But next time, I really think we should leave the talking to me.”

“I...agree--provided we decide on what we want BEFORE we let your inner fey loose.”

“And just to be totally, 100% on the same page, you were sulking earlier, weren’t you?”

“How is that relevant?”

“Transparency, bro. I hear it’s the big thing for teams right now.”

Mr. High-’n’-Mighty Monk gawked at her for a good three seconds. “Ok, yes, fine--call it what you want.”

The vishkanya pumped her fist at her side. Life was all about the little things. Then she retrieved the scroll from her Inventory. 

The monk leapt to his feet. “Woah! Hey! What are you doing? You aren’t actually going to cast that, are you?”

“Yeah, just like you said, and you’re gonna help me. Jondeau went over my test results with me. My skill for using magic devices is pretty solid.   
“Explain to me everything you can about casting discern location. That’ll serve as a mental framework for when I activate the scroll. If you can stay with me, telepathically, while I do, that should reinforce the framework even more.”

It would take much longer to activate the spell this way, but they were safe out here, and they had the time. Even the tiefling had to nod.

“That just might work.” He took the meat skewers off the flames for now.

Together, the Wild Colts took their time and went over the scroll spell. They finished at dusk. Golden eyes met black and white. It was do or die. Together, they activated the scroll.

Yicaxi tensed for the magical backlash. Instead, their menu map popped open of its own accord. Six points flared to life on a new, 3D vision of the Inner Sea region.

The first point marked the city-state of Korvosa along the southeastern coast of Varisia. Its colorless, transparent flag read: Shard of Lust.

The second point marked Mhar Massif, the tallest mountain in the Kodar range. Here was the Shard of Greed. The Shard of Sloth was in Starfall, capital of Numeria. The Shard of Pride was in Westcrown, a port city on the southern, Inner Sea coast of Cheliax.

The fifth point appeared over the wilds of Virlych, a region of southwestern Ustalav that lacked any major settlements. Its flag read: Shard of Gluttony. The final point made use of that 3D element. The Shard of Wrath was in a city deep below the surface nation of Nirmathas, in the second level of Darklands known as Sekamina.

[Quest unlocked: Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron]

Yicaxi grabbed hold of Anatu’s shoulders. “We’re back in business, baby!”

He would’ve hugged the tiefling punk if the dude hadn’t looked so expressionlessly awkward about it. Instead, the vishkanya let him go. “Sorry, got a bit carried away.”

The monk cleared his throat with a cough and looked away to the 3D map, his color slightly darker. “Understandable. You did a great job.”

“WE did a great job.”

He mildly raised his fist and with his typical dryness said, “Wild Colts.”

Yicaxi grinned like a clown and cupped a hand to his ear. “What team?”

“Wild Colts!” said the Wild Colts, as a team. Then they broke for dinner. They studied the map as they ate and plotted out a rough course.

Westcrown was the closest point since it was on Avistan’s Inner Sea coast along with Oppara. And with ships sailing in and out of port at all hours, they might even be able to book passage tonight.

Anatu chewed thoughtfully. “It’s the Shard of Pride, so we should probably look for someone in power with delusions of grandeur.”

“That’ll narrow our suspects down to...literally everyone in power.”

“True. This won’t be easy, but the locals would know more. Or maybe we can use your enchantments to gain entrance to some gathering of the rich and powerful.”

“I’m gonna call ‘crash a party,’ ‘Plan A.’”

“Please, don’t.”

They went that night after dinner, back into the city and straight for the western harbor. The dockworkers were able to direct them to the ships setting sail for the Infernal Empire, and they even found an old, devil-spawn tiefling captain going straight to Westcrown.

It was a 4-day trip, arriving on the 5th day. The captain charged a ridiculous 666 gp per passenger when the going rate was 50 gp per day. As promised, the vishkanya only used her charms to haggle the price down to a more than reasonable 150 gp each--which would leave her 50 gp in save-the-world funds.

Before she could draw the coin from her Inventory, the qlippoth-spawn tiefling forked over the full 300 gp. The bright red, pointy-horned captain with his big white bush of a beard snatched up the gold.

“It’s Westcrown, so we set sail at dawn.” There was an odd note in his voice when he mentioned the city, but only the city. “If that’s too early for ya, wee mercenaries, you can bunk with the rest of the crew tonight. But yer settin’ up yer own hammocks.”

“Why does Westcrown make any difference?” asked Yicaxi.

“The midnight guard--ya haven’t heard? I’ll tell ya, but no refunds if you change yer minds.”

“We’re going, and we’re getting the hammocks,” the monk dryly assured him.

“Alright, well, almost two years ago, beasts of shadow began prowling the streets at night. No one knows where they came from, but we all reckon the Nidalese got something to do with it--them being shadowcasters and all.

“Now ya can’t walk any street in Westcrown after dark without gettin’ attacked. But when day comes around--poof, there go the midnight guard. And everything’s back to bustling even busier than usual ‘cause of the tight schedule.”

“That sounds like an overrun dungeon,” said Anatu. “Haven’t the pathfinders done anything about it?”

“Lad, there’s been no pathfinders in Westcrown for fifteen years. They had some real bloody violent falling out. Some were seen fleeing the city. The rest were never seen again.”

“Well, we’re pathfinders-in-training.” Yicaxi gave their fellow rookie a pointed look. “If there’s an overrun dungeon threatening the whole city…”

He nodded impassively. “It’s our duty to look in on it. But why haven’t any Chelish pathfinders investigated?”

“Who knows?” The captain shrugged, then laughed. “Maybe the ol’ Council of Thieves is payin’ ‘em not to.”

“Council of Thieves?” asked Yicaxi.

“Just an old Wiscrani joke. Some ol’ legend about Westcrown bein’ controlled by a shadow government back when it used to be capital of Cheliax.”

Shadow beast? Shadow government? The rookies shared a look. Fate was never subtle. Not that they could do anything about that from all the way on the other side of the Inner Sea.

The Wild Colts boarded the ship. It was Yicaxi's first time on any seafaring vessel. They loved the slight rock of the waves underfoot. It sent renewed energy flowing up their legs--they had to keep from running all over the obstacle-course of a deck.

They ended their self-guided tour at the rail. After the rain, the stars shone bright and clear over the flotilla of tent-like sails gentling rocking in the harbor. So near to home, yet so very, very far.

The monk soundlessly joined him at the rail. "I'm gonna go get some rest. Should I set up your hammock while I'm at it?"

"I can do it, thanks. And hey, thanks for getting my ticket."

"Of course. As you said, this is 'save-the-world' money."

Right, of course. "Hey, you ever seen the sea?"

"The Inner Sea, no. I've never been on a boat either."

"Sure is something," he grinned excitedly.

The tiefling's mask cracked just enough for a tiny smile back. "Get some rest. It'll help with the seasickness."

"What seasickness?"

The vishkanya got his answer the next morning. It turned out a constant rocking under foot did something horrific to your stomach. He spent all his spell slots casting remove sickness just to get around. The monk was annoyingly immune to ALL sickness and disease, of course.

The old captain took them west past the island nation of Absalom, the southern coast of Andoran, and finally the southeastern reaches of Cheliax, the Infernal Empire. It was no secret that the general sentiment among Taldan nobles was that Cheliax should be wiped from the face of the earth. After all, their secession shattered Taldor's empire. It didn't help that the Chelish then became a nation of devil-worshippers--hence the 'Infernal' Empire.

The Wild Colts were VERY interested to get the Chelaxian sailors' take with nothing else to do during the four days except bug crew and captain. They got the story in piecemeal whenever a human, half-elf, or tiefling had a free moment and a fair-weather mood.

It turned out that breaking away from the old empire had nearly ruined Cheliax right out of the gate. The new nation was broke and had no clear leader during their time of hardship, which led to decades of civil war.

That was when the House Thrune stepped up and did the unthinkable--Matron Abrogail signed a pact with the powers of Hell, placing herself and all her family under their control. In return, she received an army of devils to bolster her forces, and others to assist her as advisors. With their infernal help, she brought the divided Chelaxians to heel and became the empire's first Infernal Majestrix.

With order restored throughout the land, the new ruling class began to consolidate and reinforce its power. Soon, House Thrune went a-conquering and controlled a widespread empire of its own. Their first command was to establish diabolism and the worship of Asmodeus as the official state religion.

Yes, that meant commoners like the captain and crew were technically devil-worshippers, but outside the nobility, it was all effectively lip service. And better to fake it than speak out. The empire's Hellknights would arrest anyone on even the slightest charge of heresy and throw them into prison labor camps, aka, slavery.

So, yes, the Infernal Empire ran on the backs of fiends and slaves--a merciless machine of hellfire and blood, where morality surrendered to the law and order of its nobility. In doing so, Infernal Cheliax had become one of the most powerful nations in the Inner Sea region. Its control of the waters between the Inner Sea and the Arcadian Ocean, also gave it a vital role in the entire region's trade.

Although all powers of Hell were revered, Asmodeus, Ruler of Hell, was the empire's foremost divine patron. It was said his plans reached eons into the future, and the minor setbacks of the day were all factored into the cost of doing a devil's business. Thus, the Chelish nobles always planned for a long campaign and never trifled over the losses suffered by their subjects. 

"They way they see it," said the captain, "what's a little discontent when there's plenty of burning hellfire to go around."

"Yikes," said Yicaxi. With that attitude, he could see why the nobles would let the Wiscrani suffer on their own.

Anatu's antennae twitched in equal outrage. "Plan A, we deal with that dungeon. Yicaxi?"

The vishkanya couldn't agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 2]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 0 RP  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 39 (+12 Dex, +3 natural armor, +14 defensive instinct)  
> HP: 30  
> Fortitude: +9  
> Reflex: +15  
> Will: +22  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 45ft, 45ft fly  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite +13/8/3 (4d6+10 plus poison/x3, primary), 2 claws +13 (1d8, secondary), hoof kick or tail slap +13 (1d8, secondary)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic, dancing lights  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person, implant urge
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 24  
> Dexterity: 34  
> Constitution: 24  
> Intelligence: 22  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 31
> 
> Skills: (21/26 ranks)  
> Appraise +11, Bluff +16, Disguise +14, Arcana +10, History +11, Local +11, Nature +10, Nobility +10, Planes +7, Religion +10, Linguistics +10, Spellcraft +10, Use Magic Device +19, Ride +13, Geography +7, Diplomacy +14
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats: (1/1)  
> Spell Focus (enchantment)
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear, Towering Ego, Gift of Will
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: locker key, save-the-world funds (200 gp), rookie field gear  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy
> 
> Quests:  
> Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	20. The Wild Colts Go Dungeon Delving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out there was a mistake in those character sheets earlier--Yicaxi has detect psychic significance instead of dancing lights

The Wild Colts sailed into port on the morning of their fifth day at sea. Like Oppara, Westcrown was an extremely active shipping hub. Goods of every kind passed to and fro from points throughout Cheliax and throughout the city via the powerful Adivian River. The waterfront was jammed packed with ships, docks, and warehouses--everyone hustling to get their business done in the daylight hours.

Yicaxi and Anatu thanked the old captain and stepped off the gangplank onto foreign cobblestones. They’d had breakfast aboard the ship and the day was young, meaning they had plenty of time to kill before dealing with the midnight guard. The plan, as they’d devised at sea, was to wait until just before dawn and follow the midnight guard back to the dungeon from whence they came. To do so safely, they’d need lodging within the city.

“Wait,” said the vishkanya. He stepped out of the merchant street traffic and into a narrow, shaded alley between warehouse and office. “What if, instead of renting a room at an inn, we stay at the old pathfinder guildhall?”

There would be no fully-ranking pathfinders to stop them, AND it’d be free.

The tiefling, leaning against the office brick wall opposite him, nodded slow and ponderously. “That might work--if it hasn’t already been converted or demolished.”

There was no way to know unless they tried, so the two split up to ask around. Sure enough, an old tiefling beggar was able to give Yicaxi directions to “Delvehaven.”

“But you should take care,” they croaked hoarsely. “The place is haunted and always hungry for new blood.”

“Noted. Here, for your troubles.”

He dropped 100 gp into their cracked, wooden begging bowl. 

The beggar’s eyes filled with tears. “Asmodeus bless you.”

There was really no nice way to say ‘keep it,’ so the vishkanya gave her best business smile and nod and walked away. She reached out to Anatu telepathically. “Got it, and it’s possibly haunted, so I’ll give you that Will trick before we head over.”

“Thanks.”

Despite their earlier agreement about transparency, she decided not to mention shelling out half of her save-the-world funds. Instead, she banked on making up for it when they hit the overrun dungeon tonight/dark-early tomorrow morning.

The Wild Colts rendezvoused in the alley and fast traveled to the new point on the Westcrown city map--bypassing the scenic walk from island to island on the River Adivian and its famous bridges and canals. They arrived face-to-face with a 12ft stone wall crusted with bird droppings and sea salt deposits. A large  
oak sign hung askew over a wooden front gate chained shut by rusted irons. The sign read: “By order of Lord-Mayor Arvanxi, this guildhall is condemned. Trespassing prohibited.”

“Oh, good,” said Yicaxi. “That should keep out any unwanted company.”

[Fey Aspect activated]

She pulled out her wings. Anatu, who had none, looked on impassively. Which gave her another stellar idea this morning.

[Fey Aspect: dire tiger]

“Hop on,” said the telepathic, winged saber-toothed tiger.

The tiefling shook his head. “Incredible,” he said dryly. Then leapt lightly onto her back.

She flew them up over a weed-choked mess of a courtyard. Delvehaven was at once stately and bizarre. The inside of the front gate was flanked by a pair of stone warrior statues. Here and there were algae-choked fountains adorned with foreign hieroglyphs. Huge wooden totems, some still standing, lined the yard. 

On the other side was a huge and sprawling ground floor. The upper level consisted of two buildings connected by an open-air walkway arching gracefully over the overgrown courtyard. A sagging veranda, its columns thick and mildew-spotted with  
age, adorned Delvehaven’s facade. Two huge oak doors stood in the center of the veranda--a carving of a road receding into  
the horizon inscribed within a circle decorated each.

A carved placard above the doors hung precariously from  
rotting joints. Its faded letters read: “To liberate the Past for the knowledge of Today; to live the maxim that fortune is earned by the bold; to prove there are no boundaries.”

“Start at the top, work our way down?” asked Yicaxi.

“Sure. East wing or west wing?”

West it was. No sooner had she landed on the upper level’s balcony did the Wild Colts receive an interdimensional alert.

[Dungeon entered: Delvehaven]

Chills. The tiger got chills of both fear and exhilaration. “Maybe it’s the dungeon we’re looking for.”

“We’ll know soon enough,” said the monk. He hopped off her back and tried one of the line of doors on either side of the main doors.

It opened to a dusty, tattered bedroom. As did the next, and the next, and the next. All the former officers’ rooms were empty. He nodded at Yicaxi. The tiger pushed open the creaking double doors into a huge, airy council chamber.

A gigantic nightscape mural blanketed the domed ceiling. The mural’s bands of stars stretched to form an outline of the same encircled road below. Wooden stairs led up to a balcony which circled the upper level of the chamber. 

On the center floor, ten high-backed chairs ringed a round stone table. A large decorative lantern rested on the table’s center, its magical flame still aglow.

The tiger’s eyes widened to golden saucers. That was a dawnflower lantern, a Qadiran hooded lantern. Not only would it stay forever lit, but it could also be used to cast bless or consecrate. And it was worth 6400 gp.

“Yoink.” As they opened their tiger maw to grab its handle and send it into their inventory, a glowing ball of light flickered into their peripheral vision. It formed a nebulous image of a skull. 

“Yicaxi, behind you!”

The will-o’-wisp zapped them in the back with fur-singing electricity. In the blink of an eye, it vanished from sight.

The tiger bit and clawed wildly in the surrounding air, causing the tiefling to fall back. One claw tore through something like a combination of wind and cloud. The will-o’-wisp flashed with light at its wounding.

Those few seconds were all the monk needed. His hands and feet steeled with ki. He tore the nebulous skull-light to shreds with a flurry of blows.

“Yicaxi, are you ok?”

“Yeah, just a little singed. West wing’s clear. Ready to head east?”

“Yeah. Let’s get some monster meat.”

The west wing contained the dust-covered barracks of rookies and regular pathfinders. As well as a bathroom with a suspiciously crystalline pool encircled by a border of even more suspicious eldritch runes.

[Spell cast: read magic]

“It’s a permanent magical seal.”

“They trapped a monster in the bathtub?” Anatu asked, his voice equal parts dry and incredulous.

“I don’t s--” As the tiger approached for a better look, a perfect water replica of the smilodon rose from the pool’s surface. “Oh.”

This wasn’t a bathtub. Those had probably rotted away in some closet like the rest of the beds here. This was a 3D mirror. And the trapped creature creating those images was a water elemental.

“That ain’t right,” said Yicaxi. He explained it to Anatu.

“It’s not, but we can’t loose a water elemental into the city.”

“So what, you want to leave it trapped here?”

“Would you rather kill it?”

“No!” growled the tiger. “It should get a fighting chance.”

“Yicaxi, you set that thing free, and you’re on your own--I’m not helping you win a fight that stupid.”

“Good, because that’s exactly what’s happening.” She clawed a rune-etched tile out of the warding ring.

The water tiger leapt out from the imprisoning pool and sprang at the ‘real’ tiger. They duelling tigers roared, snapped and raked at each other. The water tiger might’ve been bigger, but the fey tiger’s defensive instincts were sharper.

Water teeth and water claws clashed harmlessly off Yicaxi’s blurring stripes. Her adamantine-hard, adamantine-sharp teeth and raking claws splashed the elemental like a popped water balloon all over the tiled floor. The bathroom, minus one occupant, fell into heated silence.

[Level up: Mesmerist 3]

[Hypnotic Stare improved: penalty also applies to target’s spell resistance, spells, and spell-likes]  
[Mesmerist ability added: Touch Treatment]  
[Spells learned: message, sow thought]

The tiger growled out a bitter laugh. Killing monsters made them stronger--even trapped monsters that never wanted to be involved in someone else’s dungeon. Innocent monsters. Truly, nothing ever came without a price. They hadn’t felt this nauseous since the boat.

And they weren’t even halfway through. The Wild Colts followed wide wooden stairs from the barracks down to a grand foyer. Paintings adorned the walls, most of them mold-damaged beyond repair, but one was still recognizable as a picture. Two pathfinders--one an elf and the other a Chelish human with the pale olive skin, black hair and eyes of these parts--stood bloody and triumphant over the body of a huge, 30ft-long triceratops.

Yicaxi grimaced. And took a claw to that canvas. “I thought pathfinders were supposed to be the good guys,” they growled.

“We clear dungeons of loot and monsters. Anyone can do that, regardless of alignment.”

True, and troubling. 

The foyer opened to a library as full and magnificent as the one at Tallgrasses--not that they had time to read anything while clearing the guildhall-turned-dungeon. Instead, they passed through the library’s back doors into a hall of armor.

Or what HAD been a hall of armor. Now most of the displays were in missing pieces on the floor. Destroyed by either of the two muscular, dog-shaped creatures almost as large and bulky as Yanmass marshes’ black shucks. Only their black coats drank up the light, drawing shadows in around it--shadow mastiffs. 

The two let out an unnatural, mind-piercing howl that could strike fear and panic into the hearts of anyone on the Delvehaven premises. But the tiger’s mind was as slick as a serpent, and the tiefling’s had been gifted his staggering will.

“They’re calling allies!” said the monk, sweeping into an attack.

“Then let’s make this fast.” Yicaxi pounced.

The hounds were hard to hit, blending with the hall’s darkness, but where the Wild Colts did hit, they dealt grievous wounds. Especially the tiger. He turned his shadow mastiff to shadow monster chow in seconds.

Which was when the doors at the end of the hall busted open. The skeleton of a huge, 30ft-long triceratops oozing with sickly, tar-like shadows reared and charged.

Anatu spun off from his hound combatant and into an empty alcove. The undead triceratops crashed through his mastiff, trampling the hapless beast underfoot.

The saber-toothed tiger pounced back. She caught the dinosaur’s goring horn between her fangs. Her teeth grabbed and chomped, crunching into its skull. Her fore and hind claws gouged and braced into the wooden floor, holding the triceratops in place.

The grappled dinosaur let out a beam of searing darkness right into her face. It bounced harmlessly off Yicaxi’s spell-resistant coat.

Anatu sprang out of his alcove to attack from the back. And found himself staring at a clutch of five dolls on the floor of the hall that hadn’t been there before. There was a wooden, pull-toy dragon, a stuffed bear missing a button eye, a cracked, porcelain-faced doll, a rag-doll, and a foreign, wooden fetish holding a pointy little spear. “Uh, Yicaxi--”

“Are you gonna help or what?!” She growled between bone-crunching chomps, claws gripping through the floorboards for dear life as the triceratops skeleton thrashed its thundering hooves for freedom.

The dolls sprang at him in attack. Anatu yelped and batted at them. “Just a second!”

He kicked and shook his legs to try to dislodge the clawing teddy and stabbing wooden fetish.

“Desna-dang it!” growled Yicaxi. She dug in her claws and she dug in her teeth. With a mighty, brutal twist, she torqued the tricertops’ skull 90 degrees and ripped it off the skeleton’s shoulders. 

The undead head went crashing into the wall. The rest of the triceratops came crashing down into a clattering sprawl of bones.

On the other side of the bone heap, the tiefling stomped his foot through a wooden, pull-toy. The tiger watched, impassive.

Anatu straightened up, clearing his throat with a cough. “Once I perfect my whirlwind strike, groups of enemies like this won’t be a problem anymore.”

"Group of enemies? I'm pretty sure I just saw you laying waste to a bunch of toys."

"Evil toys, Yicaxi. Evil toys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 3]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 0 RP  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 39 (+12 Dex, +3 natural armor, +14 defensive instinct)  
> HP: 45  
> Fortitude: +10  
> Reflex: +15  
> Will: +22  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 45ft, 45ft fly  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite +14/9/4 (4d6+10 plus poison/x3, primary), 2 claws +14 (1d8, secondary), hoof kick or tail slap +14 (1d8, secondary)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic, detect psychic significance, message  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person, implant urge, sow thought
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 24  
> Dexterity: 34  
> Constitution: 24  
> Intelligence: 22  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 31
> 
> Skills: (23/39 ranks)  
> Appraise +11, Bluff +16, Disguise +14, Arcana +10, History +11, Local +11, Nature +10, Nobility +10, Planes +8, Religion +10, Linguistics +10, Spellcraft +10, Use Magic Device +19, Ride +13, Geography +7, Diplomacy +14, Dungeoneering +10
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats: (1/2)  
> Spell Focus (enchantment)
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear, Towering Ego, Gift of Will, Touch Treatment
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: locker key, save-the-world funds (100 gp), rookie field gear, dawnflower lantern  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy
> 
> Quests:  
> Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	21. The Wild Colts Discover Conscription

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here come the moral quandaries

Yicaxi was only one hurt--from the will-o'-wisp. Still in tiger form, he padded over to a shadow mastiff and unthinkingly took a big, flesh-tearing bit out of the hound’s inky flank. He raised his head as he chewed. And caught Anatu staring at him, the tiefling’s mouth slightly agape.

Oh. “Don’t worry--I’m 100% sure my dire tiger stomach can handle this. It doesn’t even taste raw.” To be honest, it tasted great--like a juicy, gamey cut of goat with a hint of smoke.

The tiefling shook his head wordlessly.

Yicaxi was finished eating and healing up in seconds. “I know we just fought some shadow beasts, but Delvehaven doesn’t really feel like the dungeon we’re looking for.”

“No, there aren’t shadow beasts here to terrorize an entire city. Though there’s still the back and the basement level,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at a descending stone stairwell. 

“Let’s finish the ground floor first. And come ‘ere so I can implant another Gift of Will.”

He walked all the way up to the smildon’s saber-toothed face. Yicaxi sat up on his hindlegs. He reached out a massive, clawed paw to Anatu’s forehead, covering the tieflings entire face. The tiger snorted and rumbled with laughter.

The monk stepped back, the slight crack of a grudging smile disappearing in a flash. “Thanks. The hounds probably alerted all the rest of the monsters here to our presence.”

Whatever kind of monster kept shadow mastiffs and an undead dinosaur as guard dogs couldn’t be good.

But on the ground level, they only found a well-equipped kitchen with very inedible foodstuffs, a once-comfy-now-ruined bar and lounge, and spacious training grounds out back. All that was left was to head down the stairs to the truly dungeon-like stone halls below.

The underground reminded Yicaxi of her entrance test in Tallgrasses’ own basement level--only Delvehaven’s was much larger. She might’ve smiled if not for the tense, ominous threat looming in the hushed darkness.

On the floor of the huge, half-circle chamber was a mosaic of gold, green, and magenta tiles forming the same encircled image of a road vanishing into the horizon. The battered and blasted remains of a statue laid scattered before the hallway at the other end.

The dark, looming hall, had once been barred by huge stone doors. They had been forced apart--from the outside--and now hung askew on their hinges.

Voices hissed from the darkness. Out from the hall ran four rag-clothed, corpse-white humanoids. It was the fangs that gave them away.

“Vampires!” yelled Anatu, blazing with ki.

Only the vampires were outpaced by an army of howling wolves. They appeared out of nowhere and pounced at the monk and tiger from all directions.

The Wild Colts’ fists, claws, and teeth tore through the wolves like scissors through cloth. They may’ve been 20-strong, but they were mere minions--conjured by a more powerful force than the raggedy vampire spawn.

What the army did was corral the Wild Colts. Leave them sitting ducks to crossbow bolts and spells slung from the unseen depths of the hall.

The monk deflected one bolt and deftly dodged a second. A spell of blindness pinged off of the tiger’s spell resistance, but they decided to play like it hit. They roared and mauled wildly at wolves and vampire spawn--fatally, but as wildly as any blinded and enraged smilodon.

Step-by-step, the Wild Colts waded through the sea of teeth. Yicaxi broke through first, throwing a broken vampire out of their jaws. They and Anatu a step behind them were hit with a blast of negative channeled energy--as well as all the rest of the hapless, wounded wolf swarm.

Three far better equipped vampires appeared at the edge of their darkvision. The first was heavily tattooed over his hairless body--dark lines and curves patterned over the unnatural white. The second was dual-wielding wooden stakes. The third was hooded and cloaked in black--a golden unholy symbol of Norgorber, King of Thieves, dangled beneath the hood.

The tattooed and stake-wielding vampires hissed and charged. But they were not mindless. The tattooed vampire shifted into a black-and-white-furred wolf. The undead cleric stayed back, blasting everyone with their unholy energy--the black flames burned the living but healed their fellow bosses.

More than anything, Yicaxi wanted to shift back into humanoid form and yell “Time out!” But the blurred form and natural armor of their Fey Aspect were the only things keeping them alive, unscathed.

The dungeons, the classes, the menu--it was all part of the same brutal, bloody system. There was nothing the mesmerist could do but fight to keep everyone else safe from the dungeon and its intelligent monsters. At least for now. If they were stronger, or if they had more help, maybe their enchantments--

The stake-wielding vampire let out an all-too understandable hiss of frustration. She cast aside her stakes and shifted into a blonde wolf.

Yicaxi wondered when they would realize it was hopeless. Still playing blind, he delivered a massive swipe of his claws across the new wolf’s chest and throat. Swinging his head, his teeth clipped the edge of her neck and ripped.

The re-deaded vampire turned to ash in his mouth. The dire tiger roared not in triumph but in grief.

“Take care of the wolf,” he growled. And shifted--not into a vishkanya but to his true face, he greenish-black-scaled, fork-tongued serpentfolk.

The 6ft snake finally turned his hypnotic, golden gaze onto the undead cleric.

[Spell cast: charm person]

“Come, friend. I am also one of the worshippers of the Reaper of Reputation. Let us stop this madness and talk, faithful to faithful.”

The hooded vampire laughed. “Fool of a snake. Don’t you know that you can’t charm the dead?”

So he couldn’t charm the dead, ok. But he’d gotten one talking. “Yet my offer remains. I tire of this senseless bloodshed. Let us talk instead.”

“And when the talking is done, you and the tiefling will kill me just like the others!”

“No! No! There has to be another way of clearing this dungeon!”

“Dungeon?”

“So long as you’re here, filling this place with your bloodthirsty allies, Delvehaven is considered a ‘dungeon.’ As pathfinders, almost pathfinders, it’s our duty to seek out and clear dungeons of their ‘monsters’ to prevent the monsters from leaving into the world and threatening those able to defend themselves--that’s an ‘overrun dungeon’ situation--like what’s going on with Westcrown and the shadow beasts right now. You don’t happen to know what’s all that business, do you?”

“In fact, I do. But once I tell you, my life will be forfeit. You said yourself, I am a monster to be ‘cleared,’” the vampire hissed.

“Look at me--I’m also a monster. No, there has to be another way.”

“There isn’t, Yicaxi,” said the tiefling’s telepathic voice in her head. He shook the vampire dust off his fists and joined her side, menacing the undead cleric with his impassive stare. “That’s a vampire. They live on blood.”

“We’ve been living on monster meat.”

“And they worship Norgorber--patron of thieves, assassins, murderers, and spies. They’d betray us the minute we let them go.”

“What about second chances?” Yicaxi snapped out loud. “I wouldn’t be here without one, and I’m guessing you wouldn’t either. This cleric--what’s your name?”

“Majir,” said Majir.

“Majir deserves one too.” The snake could see clear as day that even though she’d been right about Anatu, the monk would never let the vampiric cleric of a neutral evil god loose from this dungeon. Not without a little persuasion.

[Spell cast: sow thought: all thinking beings deserve a chance to prove they aren't monsters]

Anatu had no defense from her 'argument' under the golden weight of her Hypnotic Stare. Yes, it was a betrayal of the team and their friendship, but neither they nor Majir had the years it would take to convince him naturally.

The tiefling let out a deep, heavy sigh. "How, exactly, do you propose this vampire prove their reformation?"

"Majir joins the Wild Colts. Temporarily. You, Mr. Monk, can decide when they're ready to go unsupervised." She'd enchanted him, but she also gave him a voice--that was called compromise. Every good business deal had it.

"They're a vampire. They can't go out in daylight. Right?"

"That's true," said Majir. "Daylight is lethal to my kind. In the interest of preserving my life, however, I...am considering the madness that you offer. It is possible for me to take the form of a gaseous cloud. In such fluid shape, I can fit into any enclosed receptacle."

"You understand that you would be our prisoner?" Anatu asked dryly, ironly. "That one miscalculation on your part and we would be duty-o to hunt you down and kill you?"

"I do."

"Then welcome to the Wild Colts, our untrusted friend," grinned Yicaxi.

[Dungeon cleared: Delvehaven]

[Level up: Mesmerist 4]

[Reward earned: +1 to one ability score]  
[Feat earned: Spell Penetration]

[Mesmerist trick gained: Astounding Avoidance]  
[Mesmerist spells gained: lesser restoration, hold person]

[Serpentfolk spell-likes unlocked: 1/day dominate person, major image]

Yikes, that was too much to take in right now. Yicaxi set the interdimensional notifications aside for now, let Anatu handle looting the ash piles for their save-the-world fund, and shifted from a serpentfolk back into vishkanya form. He sat down on the bottom steps of the stairwell and patted the seat next to him for Majir.

Yes, interrogating the undead cleric on the steps of the battlefield where he and Anatu had wiped out all the vampire’s allies wasn’t ideal, but there was too much daylight aboveground to talk face-to-face. Majir sat and pulled back their hood.

They were Garundi with black hair shaved close to their brown skin. They seemed to be in their early twenties, but given the extremely slow rate at which vampires aged, appearance was a poor indicator. Their eyes were blood red but otherwise perfectly human. In fact, with their fangs retracted, Majir could easily pass as the Wild Colts’ babysitter.

“So, Majir. I’m Yicaxi, and that’s Anatu.”

The tiefling raised a hand in acknowledgement but didn’t look up from the ash through which he was sifting.

“You’re...both children,” said the vampire.

“Technically, I’m sixteen.”

They let out an incredulous laugh. “To think we guardians of the Morrowfall were taken down by children,” they shook their head, smiling bitterly. “Just our vampire spawn should’ve been much harder to kill--usually our bodies discorporate into that gaseous cloud form. But somehow your attacks were like daylight itself. You turned my brethren to ash without running water, staking, or beheading.”

“Perhaps because we’re silvers,” the monk remarked dryly, putting away an enchanted crossbow and a scarab-shaped pin.

“I don’t understand,” said Majir.

“We’ll explain later. What’s this Morrowfall? And what can you tell us about the midnight guard?”

“The Morrowfall is an artifact deeper down that hall. It’s one half, the light-conjuring counterpart, of my master’s shadow-controlling Totemtrix. When the two are joined, they suppress the other’s powers and render both artifacts vulnerable.

“But the light of the Morrowfall would kill any vampire who touched it, so we were sent to prevent anyone else from obtaining it. As you’ve likely surmised, Master Sivanin is both a vampire and he who controls the shadow beasts of the midnight guard.”

“Why is he doing this to Westcrown?” asked Yicaxi.

“Because he was contracted to do so by the Council of Thieves.”

“So they ARE real,” muttered Anatu, putting away enchanted leather armor and the pair of combat stakes. “I don’t suppose he knows their intention with this, does he?”

“Everyone does. It’s population control. Regulation of the common folk. Come nightfall, this city is essentially under the Council’s martial law.”

“That’s terrible,” said Yicaxi--internally acknowledging the sickening similarity to the intrusive control she’d just used on her friend. “What’s the Council holding over Sivanin that such a powerful vampire has to uphold this contract?”

“That, I do not know.”

“Alright, we’ll just ask him ourselves.”

“Indeed.” The monk walked over to join Yicaxi’s side. “You must’ve known where this was headed, Majir, but we have to ask that you tell us everything you know about your master, his forces, and where to find him.”

The vampire nodded slow and thoughtfully. “You may be children, but you just might live to use my information. Very well. I, your humble prisoner, will hold nothing back.”

Prisoner. The word set the vishkanya’s teeth on edge. But this was for the best. Wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 4]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 0 RP  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 39 (+12 Dex, +3 natural armor, +14 defensive instinct)  
> HP: 60  
> Fortitude: +10  
> Reflex: +16  
> Will: +24  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 45ft, 45ft fly  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite +15/10/5 (4d6+10 plus poison/x3, primary), 2 claws +15 (1d8, secondary), hoof kick or tail slap +15 (1d8, secondary)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion, dominate person, major image
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic, detect psychic significance, message  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person, implant urge, sow thought  
> 2nd-level: lesser restoration, hold person
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 24  
> Dexterity: 34  
> Constitution: 24  
> Intelligence: 22  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 32
> 
> Skills: (23/52 ranks)  
> Appraise +11, Bluff +16, Disguise +14, Arcana +10, History +11, Local +11, Nature +10, Nobility +10, Planes +8, Religion +10, Linguistics +10, Spellcraft +10, Use Magic Device +19, Ride +13, Geography +7, Diplomacy +14, Dungeoneering +10
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats: (1/2)  
> Spell Focus (enchantment), Spell Penetration
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear, Towering Ego, Gift of Will, Touch Treatment, Astounding Avoidance
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: locker key, save-the-world funds (100 gp), rookie field gear, dawnflower lantern  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy
> 
> Quests:  
> Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	22. The Wild Colts Gotta Pocket Full of Sunshine and Sha-dow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And get a taste of solo leveling

After learning what they did from Majir, the Wild Colts decided they might as well attack the overrun dungeon in daylight when its shadow beasts and undead would all be forced to shelter inside. While the cleric sketched a map into Anatu’s field journal, Yicaxi went upstairs to find a light-proof storage receptacle for their gaseous cloud.

The bar and lounge was nearest. Not only did he find a suitable, lightweight whiskey flask, but he also found four bottles of centuries old elven spirit wine (worth 175 gp apiece), and various potions. The old barkeep must’ve doubled as Delvehaven’s apothecary, because that stash held two potions of cure moderate wounds, two potions of lesser restoration, a potion of levitate, two potions of mage armor, a potion of protection from arrows, and a potion of reduce person.

“Jackpot!” He brought the lot downstairs in his inventory. 

The tiefling received one CMW, both lesser restorations--since Yicaxi had just learned that spell--the levitate, one mage armor, protection from arrows, and reduce person.

The vishkanya held up the whiskey flask with a little shake. “Alright, Majir. We need to get moving into the light, so for your safety, please get in the flask.”

The vampire muttered something that sounded like, “This must be how it feels to be the world’s saddest genie,” but otherwise discorporated without a fuss. Yicaxi made sure to let the tail of their cloud casually pass through his fingers before closing the flask. Then stored the temporary prisoner in his inventory.

Though imperceptible to the outside eye, as soon as the undead was gone, Yicaxi noticed Anatu relax. Now that he thought about it, he felt less tension in himself as well. He gave the tiefling an awkward smile of apology--unfortunately all the apology and explanation they had time for.

The monk received it impassively and went straight to business. Which was part of the reason he was no longer the ‘face’ of the party. “With all these buffing potions, I think we should be able to split up safely--divide and conquer.”

“I am SO on that page.” It would be good for them to have a little space. A little time for Yicaxi to process and decide how to act on the acidic guilt now living in the lining of her gut.

The Wild Colts first headed down the dark hall to retrieve the Morrowfall. They turned the corner into light as bright and as lethal to vampires as daylight shining from under a stone vault door. Yicaxi shifted back into a dire tiger, and the two tried the undead way of opening doors--bashing it down.

Stepping into the vault was like stepping outside at the height of the brightest, sunshine-iest day of summer. The golden eagle head on the stone shelf didn’t radiate heat, but they could practically feel it just from the strength of the Morrowfall’s light. The two shared a squinting glance.

“If you’d rather reason with vampires than--”

“You take it,” said the tiger.

As the monk did, the party received a new menu notification.

[Quest gained: Reunite the Morrowfall and the Totemtrix]

“Interesting,” said Anatu.

“What is?”

“Questline items are the only items that stay with Reborns after Rebirth, and both quests we’ve received involve items.”

“Hey now, it’s too soon to draw conclusions,” said Yicaxi, drawing on the silver studies pair back at Tallgrasses. “You know what Gentus would say--sample size, sample size, sample size.”

The tiefling cracked the tiniest of smiles. “Silly me.”

Before they went fast-traveling, the Wild Colts appraised the other items on stone vault shelves. There was a +1 defending mithral rapier, which neither of them was proficient in using. A mummified hand enchanted as a luckstone, an item so lucky it was worth a jaw-dropping, heart-stopping 20,000 gp.

Yicaxi was so stupefied by the find that they nearly dropped the hand when Anatu put it in theirs. “Wha-what? You can’t--”

He packed an exquisite but not nearly as valuable chess set into his own inventory. “Take it. In case something happens while we’re separated.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you--you’ve got the sunshine in your pocket.”

To Yicaxi’s even greater surprise, he laughed. “Sorry, that just sounds like something the Cleaner might’ve said.”

The Cleaner, right, their old persona. “Actually--I know this isn’t the time to get into it--but I’ve been feeling and even thinking a little differently ever since...ever since the black shuck.”

Ever since they let out the Cleaner. Their first response was to be unnerved. The second was realizing they couldn’t have picked a worse time for an identity crisis. Maybe staying busy would help? “You ready to fast travel? I’m ready to fast travel.”

“Ready. You want to take the front or the back? Heads or tails?”

“I’ll go tails. Wait. Better take another Gift of Will with you just in case.”

And that was that. The Wild Colts fast-traveled from Delvehaven to the river islands of Westcrown known as the Blade Sector. A 10ft wall of crumbling stone and mortar surrounded the grounds of Walcourt. Despite the compound’s decrepit appearance, its house and outbuildings were deceptively sturdy. 

The boarded up windows had actually been bricked over to wall-out the light. The roof’s sagging shingles were merely a veneer over strong wooden planks. There were also numerous secret doors and spy holes, all of which Majir had marked on the map.

The tail-end of the property concealed a gaping pit in the backyard behind a copse of trees and selectively untended underbrush. Yicaxi shifted into his stealthiest form--surprisingly, that of a small peacock--and flew over the outer wall down into the pit.

[Dungeon entered: Walcourt]

The pit’s walls were of crumbling earth, striped by furrows of erosion. A hideous stench rose from the cesspit sludge at the bottom of its depths. On purpose.

Walcourt had been built over a natural hidden grotto. It connected to the river from one end and the city sewers from the other, which was how the shadow beasts got around. Yicaxi flew toward the river-end first because it smelled better.

A set of rickety, rotten stairs ended on the stone landing  
of a cavern pool that flowed languorously out a flooded tunnel. A flat-bottomed boat with a pole for pushing it was moored to the platform’s edge. There was movement in the water.

Two giant, lobster-like aberrations known as chuuls picked apart a blood-drained carcass on the floor of the shallow pool. The unthinking monsters weren’t hurting anybody...still alive...but as soon as their food source from the vampires dried up, they’d follow the river out for food. Into the city.

Yicaxi grit her beak. She shifted into her giant, black-shelled snapping turtle and splash-landed into the water. The chuuls’ paralytic tentacles were useless against her turtle defense. But she had fewer means of attack than her dire tiger, which drew the fight out.

[Level up]

There was no time to check her stats--the splashing combat had drawn the chomped chuuls’ shady allies. Four shadow mastiffs let out their mind-affecting howls. The hounds were nothing but minions at this point.

No, the real threat was a shadow creature so insidious that Majir had mentioned it by name--the nihiloi. This creature from the Shadow Plane was both so strong and intelligent that Sivanin used it as the midnight guard’s field captain.

This “shadow lord” resembled a gaunt, vaguely humanoid being shrouded with ever-writhing shadow stuff and bramble-like, inky tentacles jutting from its back. Ebon claws curved long and needle-thin from its fingertips.

“Shadow crap!” Yicaxi shifted from turtle into moth-winged tiger and launched herself out of the water. 

She wasn’t even in striking distance when a haze of 10ft umbral whips lashed out from the nihiloi’s back. She snarled in pain, but she had no options except keep flying into the attacking shadows.

The shadow tendrils flayed the meat off her bones where they hit, but the tiger gave as good as she got. Her teeth crunched black shadow-sludge from the nihiloi’s ever-warping form. The darkness gave it fast healing, but her raking claws undid the repair just as fast.

Shadow lord and dire tiger tore each other to bloody shreds over the howling hounds and the distorted echoes of the grotto. They were equally matched. Only Yicaxi had potions and the nihiloi did not.

The combatants were at the dregs of their health when the tiger suddenly, impossibly healed faster than the shadow lord. Yicaxi roared and threw its broken carcass to the pool’s edge. Possessed by killer instinct, they watched as though from a distance as the wounded tiger then dove upon the shadow mastiffs.

They trickled back into their body only after the grotto had plunged into silence. They had nihiloi and hound meat in their jaws, having taken bites from all bodies on shore indiscriminately. Enough to have healed themself. They had also levelled up, again.

Yicaxi opened their character sheet as numbly as the mummified hand in their inventory. Their Touch Treatment had improved so they could remove the confused, dazed, frightened, and sickened conditions. Their implantation of tricks had improved so they could implant two at a time. They had some new passive ability called “Mental Potency.”

[The mesmerist can affect more powerful creatures or a greater number of creatures than normal with their mental effects. Both the HD limit and the total number of HD affected by any enchantment or illusion spell increases by 1.]

They’d learned a new trick, Fleet in Shadows, that allowed them to move twice as fast in dim or darker light or an extra 30ft in one round of combat. That was useful, given all the dark, shadowy ground they’d been traversing recently. Unlike Delvehaven, Walcourt did seem completely lightless.

Finally, they’d picked up two new spells. These seemed more combat-oriented--daze monster and rage. Again, useful. And Yicaxi felt calmer after the reading. Or maybe they’d just hit a deeper, more soundless level of numb.

In either case, he knocked back the potion of mage armor as he should’ve done before entering this black hole of a dungeon. There was no point in hoarding resources if he was just going to die from it. No doubt Anatu had reached the same conclusion without being beaten within an inch of his life.

Yicaxi switched back into his stealthy peacock and continued on his way. According to Majir, Sivanin would most likely be in his coffin at this time of day, which was in the underground shrine to Norgorber, the Gray Master. From the bird’s approach, he’d have to pass through the same hall on which Walcourt’s treasury was located--one perpetually guarded by the intelligent vampire Silana and her four recently-turned, effectively mindless spawn.

As the peacock flitted swift and silent as any other shadow in this place, he reached out to the bottled cleric through their telepathic bond. “Psst, Majir.”

“Blackfingers’ spider!” cursed the startled vampire.

“Sorry to bother. Quick question--how would you suggest reasoning with Silana?”

“She would never listen to you. Not without witnessing your power.”

“Ah.” Yeah, that was a pickle. “How about you? Would she listen to you?”

“Are you suggesting...you release me while you’re surrounded by my former and even more powerful allies?”

"First off, I'm carrying a dawnflower lantern. Second, I just soloed your 'shadow lord' and its hounds without taking a scratch, so," the peacock shrugged even though Majir couldn't see it. 

"Ah. I would be a fool turn against my powerful captor."

"Your words."

There was a curious pause with a rippling distortion--the vampire's mental laugh. "Very well. Your blind pursuit of peace is curious. Release me, and I will lend you my voice."

"Hey, my 'blind pursuit' is the only reason you're still here."

"Indeed. Hence the curiosity." 

Oh, they were a slippery one. As a merchant, Yicaxi had to respect it. As an almost-pathfinder, the peacock filled with doubts the second she emptied the flask.

The cleric, smelling like they'd bathed in whiskey, quirked an eyebrow at their captor's feathered form but drew up their hood without comment.

"Just to be on the same page, I'm not gonna ask you to fight Silana if it comes to that."

"Well thank you, that's a very likely outcome."

"I also don't want you getting hurt, if we can avoid it. You're part of the team, after all. So, can I offer you some mesmeric defenses in these strange times?"

She could feel the vampire's red-eyed stare from under the hood. "Very well," they said quietly. “How does this work?”

“Hold out your hand.” 

Yicaxi shifted from peacock to her monster-negotiating serpentfolk form. She stood almost as tall as the cleric. She set her fingertips over theirs--they weren’t cold but, somehow hilariously, room-temperature--and implanted a Gift of Will and Astounding Avoidance. 

“They’ll trigger automatically and they’ll only work once, so if things get non-negotiable--” Yicaxi tucked the flask in their jacket pocket rather than their inventory.

“Understood. Thanks.”

“Yep. Sure. Don’t mention it. Let’s go.” Before things got any more awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 6]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 0 RP  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 39 (+12 Dex, +3 natural armor, +14 defensive instinct)  
> HP: 90  
> Fortitude: +11  
> Reflex: +17  
> Will: +25  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 45ft, 45ft fly  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite +16/11/6 (4d6+10 plus poison/x3, primary), 2 claws +16 (1d8, secondary), hoof kick or tail slap +16 (1d8, secondary)  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion, dominate person, major image
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic, detect psychic significance, message  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person, implant urge, sow thought  
> 2nd-level: lesser restoration, hold person, daze monster, rage
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 24  
> Dexterity: 34  
> Constitution: 24  
> Intelligence: 22  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 32
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats:  
> Spell Focus (enchantment), Spell Penetration
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear, Towering Ego, Gift of Will, Touch Treatment, Astounding Avoidance, Mental Potency, Fleet in Shadows
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: locker key, save-the-world funds (100 gp), rookie field gear, dawnflower lantern, elven spirit wine (4), Majir’s flask, mummy hand luckstone  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron  
> -Reunite the Morrowfall and the Totemtrix


	23. Go, Wild Colt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new PC tags into the ring

Sure enough, Yicaxi and Majir caught sight of a woman in black and her four vampire spawn at the end of the next damp, rough-hewn tunnel. The sorceress was Nidalese, and generations of family from lands under the permanent shadows of Zon-Kuthon, the Midnight Lord, were unmistakable. Her skin and hair were stark white and colorless.

Silana rose to her feet at the sight of them, lowering the tattered paperback in her hand. “Majir! What are you doing here? You smell like a peasant’s still. Who’s the snake?”

Her spawn had risen as well, bristling and hissing at the living serpentfolk from their mistress’ sides.

“This is Yicaxi, and he has urgent business with Master Sivanin,” said the cleric. They turned the floor over to the snake with a hooded nod, but Silana’s blood-red glower was faster.

“First that intruder and now a serpent business-monger? No,” she hissed, her fingers weaving an eldritch pattern in the air. “He can speak to Sivanin when he’s dead!”

She vanished into greater invisibility. Majir could offer only a cloaked shrug before poofing into a gas. Just in time--a searing fireball exploded 20ft out from behind Yicaxi.

The astoundingly avoidant snake felt nothing of it as he shifted into a saber-toothed tiger. “Anatu! Anatu!”

There was nothing from the other end but dead silence. A second fireball exploded, singeing the tiger’s coat and completely immolating the mindless spawn that rushed in to attack.

[Spell cast: rage]

Silana wasn’t having much luck with the fire, so she came in close to use a vampiric touch spell. Yicaxi let her. To find her.

The tiger’s golden eyes met those of red. The raging smilodon attacked. For all her magic and undead might, she was still a “squishy” spellcaster. She turned to ash between their teeth.

“Anatu! Anatu!” Yicaxi raced through the dust past the treasury to the shrine.

The doorway was open. It was the sight that stopped her.

The vampire Sivanin was there of course, a Chelish half-elf who looked strangely familiar. He was joined by a living human carrying a blue staff carved to resemble a dragon--a wizard’s staff. Between them was Anatu. His eyes were blood red.

The monk had encountered living foes. He’d never even gotten the chance to use the stupid Morrowfall before this wizard had ensorcelled him. Just like Yicaxi.

The raging tiger screamed. Her maelstrom of grief and bitter, blazing anger threw out any notion of negotiation.

Sivanin and the wizard shared a grin. The vampire said words that fell on deafened ears. Yicaxi charged.

The two laughed as soundlessly as shadows and vanished into greater invisibility. One of them used a quickened cast to unleash the dominated vampire monk onto the tiger.

Yicaxi roared in pain but suffered his flurry of blows. She had to--to reach a paw through the dimension in his chest and into his inventory.

[Level up]  
[Level up]

The light of the Morrowfall was blinding. It wasn’t fatal to Yicaxi or the wizard, but both had to stop and let their eyes adjust.

The tiger blinked. Those weren’t white spots but motes of dust suspended in the air and light. Tears ran from their eyes even as they turned them on the wizard.

The burst of light had disrupted their concentration, shattering their invisibility. The wizard was fast, but their speed was no match for a tiger’s. 

Yicaxi saw the whites of their widened eyes. Time seemed to slow as they ripped the wizard’s entire face of shock from their skull.

[Dungeon cleared: Walcourt]  
[Reward for clearing overrun dungeon: +1 RP]

They watched from a distance as the tiger continued biting, continued eating--mindlessly--until there was nothing left of the wizard but red stains on the mixed ash of Sivanin and--and--

Yicaxi shifted, roaring and sobbing, in an unnatural mix of tiger, snake, and vishkanya--never fully one. They crawled aimlessly through the dust, their colors and forms vanishing under a coat of white-gray until there was nothing left but their gold and weeping eyes.

Wood clacked against stone at the tip of their hand/paw. The shadow-black artifact was carved in the shape of a bat’s body, but in the perfect size to fit behind the golden eagle’s head. The Totemtrix.

The shifter’s form consolidated as a slightly wavering vishkanya. They snivelled and grabbed the carved wood in one hand and the radiating gold in the other. Yicaxi put the two together. The shrine plunged into darkness.

[Quest completed]  
[Reward for quest earned: +1 RP]

F--. That. F--. Everything.

Yicaxi, a tiger once more, seized the unified, impotent artifact between his stronger-than-adamantine jaws. He ripped it to shreds and shrapnel, swallowing all into his stomach’s all-dissolving acid.

Then flumped down into the dust. He closed his eyes. And prayed for the darkness to take him, too.

Instead, he woke 8 hours later, blasphemously well-rested. With a tinny, insistent voice in his mind’s ear.

“Yicaxi! Yicaxi!”

“What?” He didn’t even bother opening his eyes.

“Thank Blackfingers! I thought you’d died and left me to be stuck in a whiskey flask for an eternity...Yicaxi? Yicaxi?”

No. That was too cruel. He hadn’t even wanted a prisoner in the first place. Yicaxi shifted back into a dust-coated, teenaged vishkanya and opened the flask. “You’re free to go. Forget the Wild Colts. It’s dark now.”

The cleric took in the bloodstained ashes littering every corner of the shrine to their god. “It’s dark and there are no shadow beasts on the prowl--the Council of Thieves will send someone to investigate by first light if they haven’t already.”

“What are you talking about? What are you still doing here? Get out! Get out, Majir! Save your f--ing self!” Yicaxi kicked a big pile of ash at them.

The dust settled on the vampire’s cloak. They shook it off. “You grieve for a friend--good. You are no monster. But you also spared my life. I’m in your debt--a life for a life. Whether you like it or not, I’m going to save yours.”

“No! Just let them come! Let them kill me too!” she roared.

But the cleric stood unmoved. “Are you finished?”

“No!” she yelled, kicking around more dust until every inch of the shrine and its occupants--one living and one undead--were coated in friend and former master. But as much as she kicked up, her tears wouldn’t stop cleaning the two streaks down her face. She dropped to her knees, digging her palms into her stupid, crying eyes.

A hand squeezed her shoulder. “Yicaxi.” 

Their voice was hushed, almost reverent, in this nightmare place of death and worship. Oh. Right. Majir was a cleric.

“Yicaxi, shall I tell you the secret of undeath?”

She said nothing for a long time, just snivelling and shaking like a leaf. But she finally nodded.

“There is only one command given to the living. That is to live. It is that easy, and that devastatingly hard.”

“H-how is th-that the s-secret of u-un-death?”

“You have to die before it’s yours.”

Yicaxi opened her eyes. Majir was kneeling with them in the dust, connecting them by the hand on her shoulder. The vampire really was a dang cleric.

She burst into laughter. The kind of wild laughter that would’ve drawn tears if she’d had any left. She fell laughing into the crook of the vampire cleric’s arm. When her laughter miraculously conjured back water, she let them hold her until those ran out too.

Yicaxi pulled away, feeling as dried and emptied as a blood-drained corpse. “You saved my life. Thanks. You can go now.”

“Do you think my life worth so little?”

“...No.”

“Then you understand I cannot leave just yet.”

The vishkanya let out a deep, parched sigh. “So the Council is coming.”

“A representative, at least. At most, with an army.”

“So we need to get ready for a fight.”

“Your words.”

Yicaxi cracked a grin. They gave the blue dragon staff a light kick toward Majir. “Gear up.”

There wasn’t time to sift through everything in the dust, but Yicaxi found a +4 belt of physical might, a +2 headband of vast intelligence, and a rod of shadowy splendor, which could create any splendiferous garb in hues of red, white, or black (as well as once per week conjuring a palatial tent with food and furnishings to sustain 100 people for 24 hours).

It was the latter two items that gave Yicaxi an idea. They cleaned themself and the cleric off with prestidigitation, then used the rod to don the elegant, gothic nobleman’s clothes that Sivanin had been wearing. They used A Thousand Faces to don his face and frame.

Even Majir had to nod, impressed. “We just might be able to catch them off guard.”

Yicaxi checked their new spells and abilities. They grinned, clownishly, as befitting a fey trickster wearing the face of the vampire they’d so recently killed. “We’re going to do better than that.”

His Hypnotic Stare had improved so that he had a 50% chance to affect creatures who were mindless or typically immune to mind-affecting effects with all such abilities of his own. He’d also learned the trick Chain of Eyes, allowing him to see and use the senses of the implanted creature for 1 minute per level.

He couldn’t forget his spells. There was one to put a few people to sleep. There were also two stronger ones, remove blindness/deafness and charm monster.

The fake vampire offered the real vampire his arm. “Shall we meet our guests?”

Majir drew their hood and hooked their arm through the half-elf’s. “Let’s.”

They made their way to Walcourt’s council chamber to wait in elegance for their “guests.” The grandiose room was dominated by a massive slate table surrounded by leather-bound chairs. Black curtains covered the walls at intervals, and between them hung masterful works of art in gilded frames--each worth at least 2000 gp apiece. 

A chandelier of black iron dangled from the center of the ceiling. Yicaxi flew up on moth wings to light the black candles with his rookie field gear’s flint and steel. He quickly returned that to his inventory and took a sprawled, lounging seat in the chair at the head of the table. Majir took up a stoic position at his side.

Sure enough, 30 minutes to midnight, a devil-spawn tiefling with matte gold skin and horns stormed into the council chamber followed by a literal barbed devil wearing the devil-faced coin unholy symbol of the archdevil Mammon, the Argent Prince.

“Sivanin, you Hells-d--ed son of a pathfinder! Where’s my midnight guard?!” He wore a nobleman’s attire, azure finery that complemented and contrasted with his gilded skin, flaming red hair and eyes. None of it could hide the fact that he was a short, scrawny teenager who was fifteen at most.

“Why don’t you ask the actual pathfinders who broke in here and killed them?” Yicaxi drawled, casually casting her new charm monster spell on the barbed devil. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t. Because they’re dead.”

Barbed devils were the sentinels of the vaults of Hell and jailers of the darkest souls. This one was 7ft tall with a leanly muscled, green-skinned body patterned with bright red rings and whorls. He/she/they appeared even larger due to the constantly growing and adjusting spines protruding from crown to tail. For all the true menace they posed, the barbed devil was no match for the mesmerist’s spell-penetrating enchantment.

The nobleteen didn’t stop until he was right in “Sivanin’s” face. He jabbed a signet-ringed finger into “Sivanin’s” chest. “You’ve ruined everything we’ve worked for, you pathetic, fake-noble, vampire cultist! Give me one reason I don’t have Melenia drag your worthless dust-sack through the streets to the Hellknights!”

Yicaxi opened her subtly fanged mouth. A second, metallic shine caught her eye. The tiefling’s other hand was closed in a painfully tight fist around a shard of a coppery skymetal known as horacalcum.

[Captivating Lure activated]

The curses and threats died on the tiefling’s tongue. His arms fell slack to his sides.

Without even leaving her chair, Yicaxi leaned forward and took the Shard of Pride from the nobleteen. Her dry eyes blinked hard and fast. She couldn’t help whispering to her deadened connection, “We did it, Anatu. We did it. Go, Wild Colt.”

It had been that easy. And that, soul-devastatingly hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 8]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 2 RP  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 41  
> HP: 120  
> Fortitude: +11  
> Reflex: +20  
> Will: +26  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite plus poison +20/15/10/5, 2 claws +20, hoof kick/tail slap +20  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure 1/day
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion, dominate person, major image
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic, detect psychic significance, message  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person, implant urge, sow thought, sleep  
> 2nd-level: lesser restoration, hold person, daze monster, rage  
> 3rd-level: remove blindness/deafness, charm monster
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 28  
> Dexterity: 38  
> Constitution: 25  
> Intelligence: 24  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 36
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats:  
> Spell Focus (enchantment), Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear, Towering Ego, Gift of Will, Touch Treatment, Astounding Avoidance, Mental Potency, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: locker key, save-the-world funds (100 gp), rookie field gear, dawnflower lantern, elven spirit wine (4), Majir’s flask, mummy hand luckstone, +4 belt of physical might, +2 headband of vast intelligence, rod of shadowy splendor  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy, Shard of Pride
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	24. From Hellfire into Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Together, alone

Yicaxi kept the captivated nobleteen under for now and kept up the Sivanin act as he addressed the charmed cleric of Mammon. “Melenia, my friend, your boss and I need to have a very serious chat. In the meantime, there’s something only you can help me with.”

“What’s that, Sivanin?” the barbed devil asked, dreamily, in his otherwise rasping, grating voice.

[Spell cast: sow thought: let all taste and see of the riches and power of Mammon]  
[Spell cast: suggestion]

Yicaxi tossed him the keys he’d found on the floor of the shrine--one of those had to be Sivanin’s master key. “Go down to the treasury and gather everything you can into the biggest bag you can find. Then go down to the docks and make sure an armful gets into the hovel of every beggar there. Come back for more until that Hells-d--ed room is completely empty.”

“What a glorious idea, Sivanin.” Melenia practically skipped off to do the deed.

“You do realize there are several lifetime’s worth of fortunes in there,” said Majir through their telepathic connection.

“We just looted a fortune off Sivanin and his wizard back in the shrine.” Yicaxi gave his own magical nobleman’s finery a tug of emphasis. “You worship the King of Thieves. Haven’t you ever heard ‘steal from the rich, give to the poor’?”

“I hadn’t heard the second half.”

The mesmerist wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t either--not in this lifetime. “Well, I’m sure even you can appreciate draining your old master dry.”

“I suppose. Though I always got the feeling that Walcourt’s treasures weren’t Sivanin’s.”

“This noble punk DID call me a ‘fake noble’ and a ‘son of a pathfinder.’”

“The last one’s most likely true. Sivanin looks--looked--like the son of those two pathfinders in the triceratops painting back at Delvehaven. And I found a wayfinder in the ashes.”

A wayfinder. Yicaxi was struck by a surge of homesickness so powerful she felt the council chamber rock under her feet like that interminable, nauseating boat ride across the Inner Sea. Once upon a time, she would’ve given anything to have her own wayfinder, the symbol of a full-fledged pathfinder. But now--

“Keep it,” she grimaced, using her Touch Treatment to settle her stomach. She switched to a seat on the edge of the long, slate meeting table and spoke aloud. “Right, I think it’s time for our tiefling friend here to answer a few questions. Majir, would you care to start?”

“He can answer? Like that?” The vampire made a vague gesture at the nobleteen’s slack-jawed, captivated state.

“Oh, yes. And I have no doubt he will be extra truthful about it.”

“Very well. I’ve never met him, so, who are you?”

“My name is Ecchar, heir of House Dreven,” he intoned from a mentally hazy distance, “but I was once a cavalier called Calamity Rick, and I think I might’ve had a different name before that.”

Holy Desna. Holy Abadar. Holy horses. That was how he got the Shard of Pride--just like Yicaxi! Just to be 100% percent certain, “You were really Reborn?”

“Yes, as a silver rank rogue.”

“I have so many questions--I don't even know where to start. Majir?”

“Let’s go over your business with Master Sivanin. What was it? Your goals? Leave nothing out.”

Little Lord Dreven was 13 when he met Sivanin--two years ago. The precocious and unquestioned prodigy Ecchar had just been permitted a probationary seat on the Council of Thieves by his father, Head of House Dreven and Head of the Council.

Sivanin was a prisoner of the Council, son of the captain and lieutenant of the last of the Delvehaven Delvers. The vampire claimed to know the location of an ancient artifact not only able to conjure immensely powerful shadow beasts but also to control them. The Council had dismissed his claims as an attempt to buy his freedom. They had, after all, already investigated Delvehaven and discovered only an artifact that conjured daylight--fatal to vampires but utterly useless against the living.

But Ecchar recalled what the Wiscrani had forgotten about pathfinders in dreams and hazy memories. However fanciful the tales, they were nowhere near as wild as the true adventures. So he staked his seat on the Council for trust in Sivanin and his promises of a shadow army for total control of the night.

They recovered the artifact. Sivanin was appointed “Lord” of Walcourt, one of the Council’s many properties, so long as he maintained the midnight guard according to the Council’s desires. Ecchar was promoted to a Council captain, but it wasn’t enough.

“I wanted to be the Head of the Council Thieves. I...needed to be, though I no longer know why.”

“It was the shard. You were being brainwashed by a cursed artifact.”

“That is most unfortunate,” said Ecchar sedately.

“Why do you say that?” asked Majir.

“Lord-Mayor Arvanxi is hosting a party at his manor tonight. All the nobles of Westcrown, including the members of the Council, should have been in attendance. So I arranged for a hellfire bomb to wipe out his entire estate at the stroke of midnight.”

“Oh gods. What time is it?” asked Yicaxi, leaping to their feet.

The chamber’s black-wooded grandfather clock struck twelve as though on cue. An earthquake rocked all of Westcrown. Walcourt creaked and groaned on its foundations. The heavy slate table and chairs slid, sending the vampire and fake vampire reeling out of the way.

The tiefling was knocked to the ground with a dazed “oof.” Dust and grit rained from the ceiling. Majir grabbed Yicaxi’s arm. Using their looted boots of teleportation, the cleric teleported them just outside the Walcourt gates.

The horizon was red with the light of a false dawn. A tornado-like pillar of smoke and flame had erupted upside down from the ground to scorch the night from the heavens. It lasted only a few minutes, but those minutes were a frozen, hellish eternity.

“Oh my gods,” Yicaxi breathed. They’d subconsciously dropped all transmutations, and stood as a serpentfolk in ripped finery to witness the evil fruit of the Sihedron shards with their own eyes.

The cleric beside them had dropped their hood. They stared, shaking their head in disbelief. Or perhaps with sobering reality. “Yicaxi, without the midnight guard keeping everyone inside, there’s no telling which nobles were immolated and which were spared.”

If the survivors had even the slightest reason to suspect Ecchar and Sivanin-- “We have to get out of here. Do you have somewhere to go? I have to head to Korvosa to prevent another one of these happening. You can come with me, if you want.”

The cleric shook their head with a bittersweet smile. “A vampire is bound to their coffin. I will go into hiding until all this is past.”

“If your coffin is in Delvehaven--”

“I’ll teleport it elsewhere as soon as we part ways.”

The snake nodded in understanding. His throat choked up nevertheless. Somehow, by some impossibly gentle cut of fate, Majir had swept into his life and, in his darkest hour, saved him from himself. It was Yicaxi who couldn’t risk slowing the cleric down, but there had to be something he could do.

A memory of Anatu suddenly flashed in his head. A memory of his story. “You shared the secret of undeath with me. If you let me, I want to give you the secret of Rebirth.”

Majir laughed. “There’s no rebirth for the undead.”

“There might be.”

“Very well. How does this work?”

“Hold out your hand.”

The vampire did. This time, the snake laid his whole hand over theirs. He implanted a Gift of Will, Astounding Avoidance, and passed one interdimensional seed of a Rebirth Point from himself to the cleric. And Majir’s blood-red eyes opened wide.

“You can check out the menu later. You need to go, now.” Yicaxi gave them the lightest push.

“Yes. Goodbye, Yicaxi. You never cease to intrigue me.”

She wanted to yell at them to ‘just go,’ but she was too choked up. The snake wiped her miraculously re-watered eyes instead.

Majir drew up their hood and vanished, leaving her with the flash of a fanged smile. She jumped as the gates of Walcourt screeched open and off their hinges behind her. The silver ranked, golden tiefling had torn them asunder--still following the mesmerist under her Captivating Lure.

He had to be stronger than even Anatu, easily capable of outmatching her in a fair fight. But the snake had no incentive to fight fairly. So she dropped her enchantment without fear.

Ecchar glanced around wildly--looking exactly like the frightened teenager he was. “Who are you? Where the f-- is that dusty b--d Sivanin?”

“He ran off with his coffin. You’d better do the same. Without the coffin.”

Instead, the nobleteen broke into tears. “What did I do? What did I do? Father--” Then he could no longer talk from the crying and snivelling.

A feeling Yicaxi knew all too well. “I’m a silver, too, Yicaxi. I was gonna fast travel to the city of Hinji and catch the first ship out to Korvosa. Wanna flee the Infernal Empire with me?”

“K-Korvosa’s j-just L-Little Cheliax.”

“Guess that’s a no. See y--”

Ecchar grabbed hold of her arm like an even younger child. Like one of the twins. 

Yicaxi sighed. “Welcome to the Wild Colts.”

The port city of Hinji was over a hundred miles west of Westcrown, but thanks to the mesmerist’s Fleet in Shadows, they were able to fast-travel 120 miles as a Qadiran horse under cover of darkness. It was daylight by the time the Wild Colts arrived. 

Yicaxi and this stranger were exhausted, but they couldn’t rest yet. The vishkanya pawned the spirit wine and dawnflower lantern at the local market. They hit the shipping offices next. They had to shell out 2000 gp after haggling, but they were able to arrange for the mummy hand luckstone to be delivered to Zarishu’s address back in Washfield--their merchant mother would instantly know what to do with that.

Finally, the Wild Colts made it to the docks. It would take about a week of direct sailing to reach Korvosa. None of the ships sailing out today were making such a direct trip, however. The earliest they could arrive was by the first of week of Rova, the first month of fall.

It was the best they could do on such pressing notice, so Yicaxi and the shell-shocked Ecchar took it. That left the vishkanya with 4200 gp in their save-the-world fund and a rod of shadowy splendor that they could pawn just in case. So the Wild Colts boarded their ship as a party of strangers to one another.

They remained that way for the entire trip. Simply too much had transpired for either of them. Yicaxi spent all their time grieving for Anatu and using Touch Treatment to rid themself of seasickness.

Only in their final days of sailing along the northern coast of Nidal to the southeastern most corner of Varisia did the vishkanya become sociable enough to question the crew about the strange new city they’d bargained passage for.

Korvosa had long stood as the first bastion of civilization on the wild frontier of Varisia--the former grounds of the heaven-razed Thassilonian Empire. It had been settled by old money Chelaxians and poorer, working-class Varisians. Like Yanmass, Oppara, and Westcrown, it was a city divided along impenetrable socioeconomic lines. There were the underpopulated affluent wards of Chelish make and the overcrowded, Varisian slums of Old Korvosa.

To make matters worse, the city had worked into its charter a forbiddance of guilds and unions. Most workers within the city were self-employed or worked for a master to whom they were apprenticed in their youths with no protections or securities whatsoever. Pathfinders (and other guild members) were allowed within the city, but they had no guildhall nor any right to any dungeons within the city-state.

Somehow, Yicaxi would have to navigate this city to find the Shard of Lust. Alone. 

“Oh, Anatu. We’re really in it now,” he muttered over the ship’s rail. The wind whipped his words out over the waves to the unbroken horizon of the Arcadian Ocean.

The ocean, a real ocean. He wished Anatu were here to see this. Instead, he was stuck with the other tiefling moping over a rail at the opposite end of the ship. “Just until we reach the city.”

Just until Korvosa. Then they would go their separate ways. It would be a fresh, new start for both of them. Yicaxi couldn’t have asked for more. He willed himself not to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 8]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 1 RP  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 41  
> HP: 120  
> Fortitude: +11  
> Reflex: +20  
> Will: +26  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite plus poison +20/15/10/5, 2 claws +20, hoof kick/tail slap +20  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure 1/day
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion, dominate person, major image
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic, detect psychic significance, message  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person, implant urge, sow thought, sleep  
> 2nd-level: lesser restoration, hold person, daze monster, rage  
> 3rd-level: remove blindness/deafness, charm monster
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 28  
> Dexterity: 38  
> Constitution: 25  
> Intelligence: 24  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 36
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats:  
> Spell Focus (enchantment), Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear, Towering Ego, Gift of Will, Touch Treatment, Astounding Avoidance, Mental Potency, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: locker key, save-the-world funds (4200 gp), rookie field gear, +4 belt of physical might, +2 headband of vast intelligence, rod of shadowy splendor  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy, Shard of Pride
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	25. Fall, Afoul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the new Wild Colts encounter a city in partial quarantine

It was the first week of Rova, the eighth month. Fall would have arrived in name only back in Taldor. Here, so far north, Yicaxi felt the coolness and crispness in the air the moment he came above deck.

The city of Korvosa was in sight at the end of the bay where the Jeggare River met the sea. The city sprawled across the spit of land formed by two sharp turns in the river, covered an isle that split the river in twain, and reached to outlying areas on the far shore of the Jeggare. And everywhere on its skyline were plumes of rancid black smoke.

“What is that? What’s going on?”

No one aboard the ship knew. The captain and crew had been here just over a month ago and everything had been fine. Everyone would have to ask around.

Despite being a major trading hub, there were notably fewer ships on the move than in any of the ports they’d visited. As the ship docked, Yicaxi was paralyzed at the rail by the sight on land.

Dockworkers--their noses and mouths covered by salt-crusted wraps of cloth. Plague masks. They were wearing plague masks. Some were coughing, hacking, with red blisters creeping up over the edge of the mask.

Yicaxi gripped the rail so hard it cracked and splintered in his sweaty hands. He couldn’t hear it or the cursing captain over the pulse hammering like a city-wide emergency siren in his ears.

His mother had long been sickly, but he’d never seen a full-blown plague. The mere sight tapped into some deep-seated, primordial terror wrapped leech-like around his soul.

The captain grabbed the petrified vishkanya by the shoulders, pulling him off the rail to give him a shake. She faltered at the sheer, haunted terror in his eyes.

“The city is sick,” Yicaxi croaked almost too quietly to hear. “They’re burning the dead.”

“That--that’s impossible,” the captain sputtered. “There are fires everywhere. That would mean--”

She shook her head in angry disbelief.

“A highly contagious plague with such a high mortality rate they have to use mass graves,” rasped the gold-horned tiefling. As noble as his birth, his eyes were just as haunted, just as terrified as the vishkanya’s.

Yicaxi and Ecchar shared a soul-piercing glance. They knew, without a shred of doubt, that in some past lifetime, they had both been scarred by plague down to the root of their soul.

The mesmerist forced her hands into fists--shooting herself up with her own Touch Treatment. Her eyes refocused on the Chelish captain’s. “Don’t get off the ship. Every health center in this city is far past capacity. Go back to the last port.”

She reached into her inventory and pushed 500 gp in the captain’s face. “Quarantine everyone aboard for two weeks--separate rooms.”

“500 gold isn’t gonna make up for what we lose in cargo! What we lose in the trust of our--”

[Spell cast: implant urge: self preservation]  
[Spell cast: sow thought: you can’t put a price on your life and the crew’s]

The captain stopped. She fell so quiet that everyone on deck leaned in closer. She ground her teeth but snatched the money from Yicaxi’s hand.

“Don’t just stand around--back to sea, you swabs!” she barked at the crew before turning back to the mesmerist. “Why do I get the feeling you aren’t gonna listen to your own advice?”

“I just raised my Constitution,” said Yicaxi, pulling out the rod of shadowy splendor, “so the chances of me contracting the plague are very slim.”

They fabricated a fitted and mobile protective suit of greenish-black--complete with a hood, goggles, and a mask. They wondered if this was how it felt to be a ninja like those from tales of far-off Tian-Xia they’d heard at the bazaar.

“W-wait! I--I’m coming with you,” said Ecchar, tying a silk scarf around his nose and mouth.

“No. I'm not having another teammate die on me. Look, I appreciate that you want to help, but you're a rogue. Your Fortitude must be--”

"I'm Level 14. And I'm not doing this for you. You don't want my help? Fine, I'll work alone. But we could probably get more done together."

Nobleteen had a point. Yicaxi sighed and let out their moth wings. "Fine. You want a lift?"

"How do I--?" Ecchar made an air-hugging gesture.

Riiight, if Yicaxi shifted into a rideable animal, they'd lose all the protection from their shifted gear. "Over the shoulders, or I'll have to carry you."

The tiefling stepped up without making eye contact and awkwardly circled his arms around their shoulders. The vishkanya put their arms around his waist as loosely as they could without risking a slip. Arm-in-arm, the new Wild Colts took to the air as wonkily as any first-time dance partners.

Ecchar followed Yicaxi, staying 6ft behind him, as he gathered information from anyone willing to talk. There weren’t beggars here, and they soon found out why.

They called it blood veil because of its clearest symptom, a rash and mask of blisters that covered the face. In its initial stages, the disease was characterized by headache, fatigue, coughing, and the rash. As it progressed, the cough became more severe, the rash spread to the neck, face, and limbs and developed into pox-like blisters, and the lymph glands swelled into painful buboes. At its most advanced stage, the blisters swelled to the size of grapes, internal bleeding created black patches on the skin, and the victim coughed up blood. 

Ultimately, the victim died a hacking, wheezing death. If left untreated, blood veil killed a healthy humanoid in 7 days.

As the number of sick grew, the city had taken increasingly desperate measures. People isolated within their homes or sought escape from the city. For the poor of Old Korvosa, however, it was already too late.

By order of the city’s nightmare queen Leos, barricades had been built up around Old Korvosa and every bridge to the river island destroyed. She/they had utterly abandoned the poor.

Both Yicaxi and Ecchar tensed, seething with palpable rage. The poor had been sentenced to death thanks to the queen’s mishandling of the contagion.

“I’m tearing down those walls,” Ecchar growled under his breath.

“It won’t help,” coughed the dockworker on break. “There are too many sick even without ‘em for the priests to magic the blood veil away. Old Korvosa’ll be a ghost slum by the end of the week.”

“We can get them access to food and water, at least,” said Yicaxi.

“And spread more of that plague around? It came from the water!”

“Then what do you suggest?” asked the vishkanya. Only her years of merchanting kept her from growling as well.

“What we ALL need is a cure. They’re workin’ on it at the new makeshift hospital in West Dock--headquarters of the Queen’s Physicians. If you really wanna help, talk to their top dog.”

“Talk,” Ecchar made a disgusted scoff.

“It’s worth checking out, at least,” said Yicaxi, telepathically.

The tiefling jumped, causing the dockworker to jump as well.

“Sorry to spring it on you, but yes, I’m telepathic within a mile. You take care of the wall, and I’ll check out the Hospice. I’ll fly up to join you when I’m finished.”

At the same time as her psychic conversation, Yicaxi spoke aloud to the dockworker. “Thanks for your help. How much will it cost you to get treated at a temple?”

“If I’m lucky to get in before I die, a scroll of remove disease used to cost 500 gp to get cast. Price’s goin’ up every day.”

She held out 1000 gp in her gloved hand. “For your troubles.”

The dockworker started blinking fast. “Thank you kindly. Abadar bless you.”

Abadar, God of Walls and Ditches. Korvosa did seem to be making lots of those recently, but the Wealthy Father had been leaving a worse and worse taste in their mouth.

Yicaxi walked it off, going their separate ways with Ecchar for now. The converted warehouse was easy to find--there was a huge line out the front door that funneled out into a waiting crowd of coughers. But the vishkanya only wanted to help the physicians, not get treatment.

They snuck into the shadows and transformed into their stealthiest form, the peacock. As soon as they flew out into the sunlight, however, they’d draw attention, suspicion, and possibly the projectiles of the hungry.

[Spell-like activated: major image]

The serpentfolk spell-like gave Yicaxi 120 cubic feet of space in which to work their illusion. Not only could they create an image, but they could make use of sound, smell, and thermal mind effects. They used them to simply cancel out their presence.

Anyone who looked at the peacock from any angle saw only the docks. The bird made no sound as they flew, nor any sound as they jimmied a second-story window open. To all appearances, the window hadn’t even opened.

They were blasted in the beak with the stinging scent of acrid chemicals and body fluid. Rows of white-sheeted beds lined the walls of this room. Each was occupied, every bed bearing a drugged patient restrained by leather straps that bound the figure to the sturdy metal frame.

At the room’s center stretched worktables covered in fluid-filled beakers, glass tubes, burners, and other alchemical instruments. Three figures in bird-like plague masks and protective leather robes drifted from worktable to patient. They were examining, operating, and--mutilating?

The peacock did a double take. Those patients were definitely off their rocks with anesthesia, but none of them bore blood veil’s tell-tale face rash. Which, given the proximity to the sick ward downstairs, meant they were either immune or cured.

Yicaxi’s blood boiled over. This headquarters for researching a cure wasn’t helping anyone. Which begged the question--what in the Hells WERE they doing? It better not have been deliberately propagating the plague, but the mesmerist got a very, very bad vibe from this place.

So bad that he leapt from the windowsill into the experimentation room, even though doing so would more than likely start a fight. He landed on a table, knocking over glassware and flaming burners to make room for his gloriously plumaged self. And absolutely starting a fight.

“How the f-- did a peacock get in here?” yelled a physician, slashing at the bird with his metal club.

Yicaxi slapped the metal-beaked man with his tail. The low-level humanoid went crashing into the next table. His companions, still not realizing the fey trickster they were up against, ran at the bird. The peacock tail-slapped them both out of commission.

[Level up: Mesmerist 9]

The door at the end of the hall was slammed open from the office on the other side. “What the--”

The mask-less physician stared in disbelief. Three tables and all their costly alchemical gear had been knocked to the floor and shattered around the unmoving bodies of his lackeys. On the fourth table, also atop a littering ground of metal and glass, was a golden-eyed peacock.

As the bird alighted on his vibrant, blue and green wings, he shifted into a ninja-garbed, goggles-wearing humanoid. “Head Physician, I presume? Let’s have a little chat in your office.”

[Spell cast: charm person]

“Oh, yes, of course. Please, make yourself at home,” said the head physician, holding open the door.

Blood, bile, and other humors bubbled away within glass tubes in his sizable laboratory. Any wall space left unobscured by cabinets or over-laden bookshelves was covered by worn parchments depicting magnified aspects of human anatomy in grisly detail—-many pierced with pins and flags like the acupuncture maps of a sadist. 

In the corner, a desk of elegantly carved white ash bore the image of a herd of caribou. The once beautiful piece was stained with dark chemicals and gore. The head physician brought his chair out from around the desk to give Yicaxi the one “good” seat in the house.

“I’ll stand, thanks. You ARE the head physician, right?”

“In the public eye, yes, but you can call me Davalus.”

“Who’s really in charge?”

“Oh, probably someone amongst the Urgathoans downstairs--we communicate by missive, really, so we’re more like two separate divisions. I’m truly the head of the upstairs division. Unless you’re counting the queen.”

Yicaxi’s brain was turning somersaults a mile-a-minute to process the massive implications of Davalus’ unwitting dump.

Urgathoans were the mostly cult worshippers of the Varisian goddess of physical excess, disease, and the undead. Her/their clerics had few tenets to uphold except helping those who desired undeath or those interested in the propagation of disease.

Downstairs--there was no way anyone on the first floor sickroom could miss a shrine and worship to Lady Despair. No, there was probably an underground to this former warehouse--once used for smuggling. If the Urgathoans were creating plague monstrosities down there, it was more than likely a dungeon or proto-dungeon as well.

Then there was the fact that Korvosa’s queen was not merely complicit but was orchestrating.

Yicaxi let out a long, shaky breath. “Just tell me this--do you have a cure for blood veil?”

“Of course! Hence me without a mask. It’d be financially irresponsible to spread a disease without having manufactured a cure first--can you imagine? Gods, the economy!” he laughed.

The vishkanya grabbed their own wrist to keep from punching him. Queen Leos might’ve been behind all of this, but her criminally apathetic, capitalist stooge here was just as heinous. Time to try out the very shiny new spell they’d just acquired.

[Spell cast: lesser geas]

“Davalus, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal--you and I are going to share a secret. If anyone asks, you’re gonna tell them you don’t know anything about this, or me.” The geas would last nine days. By Yicaxi’s reckoning, he’d be found immediately and tortured for a week at most before they killed him--so, long enough.

[Spell-like activated: dominate person]

The good doctor’s eyes glazed over. Nah, who were they kidding, the bad doctor’s eyes glazed over. Time to turn a bad stooge into a morally gray one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 9]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 1 RP  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 41  
> HP: 135  
> Fortitude: +12  
> Reflex: +20  
> Will: +26  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite plus poison +20/15/10/5, 2 claws +20, hoof kick/tail slap +20  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure 1/day
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion, dominate person, major image, mass suggestion, teleport
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic, detect psychic significance, message  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person, implant urge, sow thought, sleep  
> 2nd-level: lesser restoration, hold person, daze monster, rage  
> 3rd-level: remove blindness/deafness, charm monster, lesser geas
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 28  
> Dexterity: 38  
> Constitution: 25  
> Intelligence: 24  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 36
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats:  
> Spell Focus (enchantment), Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear, Towering Ego, Gift of Will, Touch Treatment, Astounding Avoidance, Mental Potency, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: locker key, save-the-world funds (2700 gp), rookie field gear, +4 belt of physical might, +2 headband of vast intelligence, rod of shadowy splendor  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy, Shard of Pride
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	26. A Day in the Life of a Peacock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yicaxi (and Ecchar) throw hands with the plague

“Where’s the cure?”

Davalus, groaning and drooling like a zombie, pointed to a book on his shelf. The whole shelf was hollow, and the book hid the lever to open it. Inside were 20 small vials and four larger glass bottles.

Yicaxi pocketed four small vials into his inventory as insurance. He placed three bottles into a leather satchel. The rest went onto a tray.

The vishkanya finally did sit in the physician’s chair. He closed his eyes to concentrate and saw the world through Davalus’ eyes--also ears, nose, and every other sense.

Yicaxi/Davalus strapped on the satchel and picked up the tray. They walked through the experimentation chamber and downstairs to the sick room below.

The warehouse’s vast interior had been converted into one gigantic convalescent’s ward. The stench of alcohol, sickness, and waste choked every breath. Tight rows of low, stained cots crammed the stone-floored hall. Every bed was filled with a pitiful story—-patients groaning and wheezing as blood veil consumed them alive, their sufferings multiplied by the echoing chamber.

Four Queen’s Physicians hovered amongst the sick. They froze at the sight of the unmasked doctor and his tray.

“We did it! We did it, everyone! I, Davalus of Korvosa, have discovered the cure for blood veil!”

The physicians turned on Davalus like smugglers on a snitch. But before they could even draw their clubs, they were knocked aside by scrambling, dying patients.

“Whoops!” Yicaxi/Davalus threw the tray into the air.

The sick ward exploded into chaos, the nearly one-hundred patients and four physicians diving to keep the vials and bottle from smashing to the ground.

Yicaxi/Davalus seized the moment and ran out of the hospice into the makeshift reception area. They pushed a bottle into the hands of three sick folk huddling against the wall as they waited to be seen. All three had the tell-tale rash, but they weren’t at an advanced enough stage to prevent them from running.

“Take these to the nearest temples north, east, and south of here. It’s not a cure, but the priests can use this to triple their casts per day.”

A physician, hunched in anger behind the bird mask, burst through the door from the sick ward.

“Run!”

The cure-bearers hoofed it out of there. The physician charged after them. Yicaxi/Davalus stuck out their leg. The low-level rogue tripped over it, bashing their metal-encased skull into the doorframe.

The rest of the sick folk, too short of breath to scream, broke into fits of wheezing coughs. The cloth-masked receptionist shrank behind the counter. “What’s going on?” she screamed.

“Come outside and find out!” They ran out of the hospice, waving their arms to draw the attention of the dozens in line. “Wonderous news! I, Davalus of Korvosa, have discovered the exact formula to counter blood veil! Listen well, and the formula is yours!”

Yicaxi left her dominated puppet outside to shout the formula on a loop until some physician inevitably dragged him back inside to be beaten senseless in a back room. Meanwhile, she snapped back into her body and ran into the experimentation room. 

They used their claws to slash through the drugged test subjects’ straps. Thankfully, their Touch Treatment worked even through their gloves. A quick, reassuring shoulder pat was enough to banish their dazed condition.

“Follow me.” No sooner had they said the words than two physicians kicked open the door.

[Fey Aspect activated: dire tiger]

The physicians screamed and turned right around. Yicaxi roared and gave chase. They followed them into the stairwell, where the two didn’t go to the stairs but a large wooden cargo lift in the wall. Ah.

They struck the physicians down like dandelions trampled underfoot. They shifted back to wave the rescued subjects toward the stairs. “Go! Go! Go!”

As they dashed down to join the sick ward chaos, Yicaxi shifted back into their saber-toothed tiger and hopped into the cargo lift. Going down.

[Dungeon entered: Temple of Urgathoa]

The cargo lift brought the tiger 40ft beneath the hospice--truly a separate division. It stopped in a stone chamber whose scuffed walls had been plastered over and decorated with lurid murals of skeletons cavorting across Korvosan landmarks. 

A sizable double door appeared in the mural as the pyramid foundation and Chelish-gothic Castle Korvosa. Each of its doors was decorated by the painting of a scythe-wielding skeleton.

The tiger sensed a trap on those doors, some kind of alarm. But what better way to bring the monsters to him? He slammed his forepaws into the wood.

The doors cracked and splintered open on their hinges. The dancing skeletons all breathed forth a poisonous, reddish-green gas--insanity mist. The scythe-wielding arms animated. Real scythes swung at the tiger.

But Yicaxi was immune to poison. And the tiger, far too dextrous to be struck by the scythes of a couple broken-down doors. She padded down a stone hall filled with crates, roaring her challenge to the dungeon denizens.

She was swarmed in seconds. Real skeletons and zombies, too, flooded in through the hall’s side doors. They were bolstered by scythe-wielding Urgathoan clerics who kept channeling their negative energy.

Each black energy blast chipped a little off her health. With 14 cult priests working, all that little added up to a lot. So she had to make the most of her bites--ripping and swallowing down chunks of zombie as she waded ever closer to the clerics at the back.

But once the tiger chomped her first Urgathoan, the rest went down far easier. She saved the endless tide of ineffectually clawing skeletons and remaining zombies for last.

[Level up]  
[Level up]  
[Level up]

There wasn't time to examine everything she'd picked up. She took the briefest look-see while devouring a cleric as fast as possible. She'd picked up a lot of illusion spells this time around--no doubt from casting that major image to sneak in earlier. It was almost shocking how responsive the silver/Reborn menu was. 

[Spell cast: shadowfade]

It'd make them invisible to anyone using darkvision. Which, in these darkened halls, was most likely everyone. "Ninja tiger," they giggled to themself.

The "ninja tiger" padded their way down the newly quieted halls. They peeped their head into doorway after doorway of crate-filled smuggling holds refurbished for disease-goddess temple rooms. The last brought a stinging blast of harsh chemical reek.

Circling the newly hewn, upper portion of the room was an elaborate mosaic of white, black, and green stone that depicted a giant half-corpse woman in black veils. The goddess Urgathoa danced among fields of the dead, undead, and dying.

Three huge, 1000-gallon metal vats bubbled below. A sturdy series of catwalks stretched over and around the vats, allowing the alert clerics above to guard the slurry that produced the foul, green-brown mist emanating from each. They were joined on the floor by a cult priestess in elaborate combat robes and a more traditional monster.

Stalking upon a pair of chipped hooves, the humanoid-shaped beast of bones and tattered flesh held a longbow at the ready. It had a sun-bleached horse’s skull for a head. Behind it hung filthy, maggot-eaten wings. It was a leukodaemon, and the sight of it made Yicaxi suddenly self-conscious of their own chimeric forms.

Did they, too, look horrifying as unnaturally hued beasts on giant moth wings? Maybe so. But more importantly, they found they didn't actually care. Their Fey Aspects did what they had to do without any of the sometimes sickening guilt of their enchantments.

Sure, the spells made things easy, but Yicaxi...didn't like turning people into their mind-slaves. It was the lesser evil, but that didn't make it any less wrong. They started to get a sense of why Anatu had preferred being an honest monster killer--one fewer level of guilt.

[Spell cast: greater invisibility]

At least Yicaxi had no qualms here as he snuck up behind the leukodaemon. After all, he was 98% certain these cultists were guarding the source of Korvosa's blood veil plague.

[Spell cast: rage]

There was a horrific crunch. All the cultists whipped around to see the shrieking leukodaemon getting chomped alive by the jaws of some invisible monstrosity. The cultists on the catwalks dipped their scythes into the disease vats and ran down to help it.

They were far, far too late. The head cleric stepped into the air, her fingers weaving defensive spells. The invisible tiger cast the finished leukodaemon aside and flew up after her.

Much to the horror of the Urgathoans, they watched their boss cleric get snapped in half. Her corpse splash-landed into a vat, drawing screams from the splattered cultists. Blood veil's red rash instantly erupted across their exposed skin.

The invisible smilodon roared in bloody victory. And started his way into the boss' minion course. Biting and tearing, he didn't notice the unholy power of Urgathoa herself crackling in the blood veil vat.

The boss' body levitated out of the dripping slurry. Her sundered flesh exploded with boils and pustules. Torrents of Lady Despair's foul humors flooded forth and congealed into a sickening new body for the new, undead saint.

The Daughter of Urgathoa let out an unearthly, distorted shriek. That, Yicaxi couldn't miss. He spun around in the air, throwing the last minion into a vat.

What was once a living humanoid now towered as a monstrosity  
of exposed muscle, twisting marrow, and undead majesty. She wore her flesh like a tattered gown. Her bones had warped into a gruesome scythe-hand and claws. Her rent gut spilled a wave of hardened fluids, dried bowels, and supremely powerful muscles into a single tentacle tail. It propelled this fresh, shrieking horror forward.

Somewhere in the back of Yicaxi's mind, her consciousness spared a moment to gape. This Daughter of Urgathoa was the evil goddess's reborn servitor. That was all she had time to note, having to focus all her attention and might into destroying the reborn boss.

The saint gave as good as she got, perhaps being the equivalent of a silver rank Reborn. But she was Level 1 and the mesmerist was not. It was the simple statistical difference that gave the tiger the edge.

[Dungeon cleared: Temple of Urgathoa]

[Level up: Mesmerist 13]

Yicaxi, breathing hard and no longer invisible, dropped down onto the catwalk. She had no choice but to consume the fallen undead and cultists. But she had time to think as she did so.

She'd just witnessed a goddess reincarnate her follower into a saint. Who was to say there wasn't some deity or group of deities doing the same to the Reborn? Whatever power or powers were involved, they had to be extremely powerful.

And they had to be doing this for a reason. Dungeons. Quests. Questline items. They were all connected. Yicaxi just didn't have enough data to connect the points. But maybe some Reborn out there did.

Nothing she could do to solve that mystery now. Instead, she checked out what Level 13 had added to her class.

They could implant four tricks at a time--that'd be useful for them and Ecchar. Assuming they made it out of the hospice alive. They'd definitely been down in the dungeon long enough for the Queen's Physicians to call for reinforcements. Who had the strength and resources of THE QUEEN.

Oh. "I hope Ecchar's ok." 

They didn't know him well, but his heart was in the right place. It'd be a shame to lose him before they'd spoken more than a handful of words to each other. On the other hand, now was also the least painful time to go solo, so to speak.

Yicaxi was so numbed by loss at this point that the thought occurred to them as clinically detached as any of those upstairs physicians. “Ok, moving on. Let’s check the spells.”

They’d learned fiendish wrath--similar to rage that they could grant to themself and allies as well--psychic surgery and cloak of dreams--similar to sleep except that anyone within 5ft of them would fall asleep for a minute. That could prove very useful for high-tailing it out of a crowd they didn’t want to kill.

As for the enemies no doubt gathered above, the tiger could only dig in their heels. It was time to face the royal music. Unless...one of Yicaxi’s spell-likes was teleport. 

It worked best for well-known locations, but they had just been at the harbor this morning. Surely their memory couldn’t be that foggy.

Yicaxi shifted into their smallest, peacock form. They took a deep, clucking breath.

[Spell-like activated: teleport]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 13]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 1 RP  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 41  
> HP: 208  
> Fortitude: +14  
> Reflex: +22  
> Will: +28  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite plus poison +23/18/13/8, 2 claws +23, hoof kick/tail slap +23  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure 1/day
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion, dominate person, major image, mass suggestion, teleport
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic, detect psychic significance, message  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person, implant urge, sow thought, sleep, shadowfade  
> 2nd-level: lesser restoration, hold person, daze monster, rage, silence  
> 3rd-level: remove blindness/deafness, charm monster, lesser geas, control summoned creature, fiendish wrath  
> 4th-level: restoration, mass charm person, modify memory, greater invisibility  
> 5th-level: psychic surgery, cloak of dreams
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 28  
> Dexterity: 38  
> Constitution: 26  
> Intelligence: 24  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 36
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats:  
> Spell Focus (enchantment), Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Spell Focus (illusion)
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear, Towering Ego, Gift of Will, Touch Treatment, Astounding Avoidance, Mental Potency, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes, Glib Lie, Slip Bonds, Vision of Blood
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: locker key, save-the-world funds (2700 gp), rookie field gear, +4 belt of physical might, +2 headband of vast intelligence, rod of shadowy splendor, 4 vials of blood veil cure  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy, Shard of Pride
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	27. Tiger, Tiger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

The peacock got a big, fetid gulp of the River Jeggare--oof, that nasty. But Yicaxi had gotten out of the dungeon alive and that was all that mattered. Time to make a very, very late rendezvous with Ecchar.

He got his bearings from his menu’s map and flew up from the water into the chill, autumn night. As he neared the isle of Old Korvosa, there was no telepathic sign of the tiefling. A third of the barricades on the near side of Korvosa’s main spit of land had been torn down, however, so the nobleteen had definitely been here.

Yicaxi flew down into an alley to transform back into his goggles-wearing vishkanya form. He stepped out into a street lined by a jam-packed cluster of sagging tenements and run-down stores. There were few people on the street this time of night, but all of them were coughing and rash-faced.

He waved the nearest who would approach over for a hushed interview. The impoverished senior citizen was Varisian. Unlike the Taldans and Chelish, they had olive skin almost as brown as the Keleshites. Despite the cataracts in their eyes, they were still a vibrant blue.

“Did you see what happened to the tiefling who was here earlier? Gold horns, gold skin, flaming hair and eyes?”

The old Varisian nodded. Between wheezes and fits of coughing, they told him everything he’d seen. Ecchar had gone straight into tearing down the barricades walling Old Korvosa off from the water without any explanation. The poor had cheered him on, many rushing to get boats out on the water, but the clamor caught the attention of the city guard on the main spit.

The guard fired on him with arrows and crossbows to no avail. Then they began firing at the poor on the water. Ecchar stopped everything to swim over there and give them a violent piece of his mind.

But by that point, Queen Leos’ elite guard, the Gray Maidens, had been called. They arrived on the backs of griffons. After a brutal, knockdown, drag-out match of Ecchar against the twenty-strong battalion, they finally subdued the tiefling.

He was hauled, unconscious and bleeding, in the claws of a griffon back to Castle Korvosa. For torture and interrogation--Yicaxi assumed--followed by execution at some point in the very near future.

Horse biscuits. But first things first. She pressed 1000 gp into the poor old Varisian’s palm. “For your troubles. Now, the good news--Korvosa’s recently come into a cure for blood veil.”

The victim’s gasp led to another bout of vicious coughing. Yicaxi waited for them to finish.

“I’ve got four vials of the cure on me. Here’s the deal--you agree to take at least three of them to the nearest temple on the mainland--not the spit--and I’ll spend all night ferrying everyone who wants a lift over to the mainland after you.”

Tears welled in the old Varisian’s eyes. “Desna bless you, stranger. Lady Luck shine her stars over you for the rest of your days.”

Finally, a deity she didn’t want to shake a stick at. “Hey, hey, now, the darkness is fleeting. We gotta fly now. Can you help me spread the word?”

They nodded, coughed, and waved over an old couple across the street. The old folk passed on the word, and the couple took it with them in opposite directions. In minutes, a crowd had begun to gather.

Yicaxi grinned behind the protective gear. Now this was the kind of subversive she could get behind. She shifted into a moth-winged Qadiran horse.

True to their word, Yicaxi flew the poor denizens of Old Korvosa across the river to the mainland coast of Avistan three at a time, not counting children. As one hour of ferrying slipped into two, the crowd only continued to grow. Which, of course, attracted the attention of the local powers that were.

The horse witnessed a literal ripple in through the crowd as they flew back from the mainland. The edges of the group frayed and broke apart. Voices cried out in panic.

“The Arkonas are coming! The Arkonas are coming?”

Yicaxi shifted back into a vishkanya to ask who in the Hells were these Arkonas.

“Smuggling royalty! Tyrants of Old Korvosa! Run away! Save yourself!”

A chorus of hair-raising howls carried on the wind. A small, 20-strong army came riding down the pot-holed, slum road. Humanoids with animal heads of all kinds wearing matching, Vudrani-style robes raised kukris and backward-bending claws into the air.

Their mounts wielded kukris as well. They had the heads and torsos of humanoids, but the bodies of lions and the wings of falcons. These were not criosphinxes but darksphinxes, planar outsiders called up from the deeper circles of Hell. 

Yicaxi shifted into their raging tiger and charged out to meet them in do-or-die combat. Then had to watch in abject horror as the rakshasas fired lightning bolts directly into the civilian groups too slow and sickly to disperse.

“F--ing monsters!” they roared. But there was nothing they could do for the poor of Old Korvosa getting fried to death by the dozens.

Yicaxi could only end the horrific, mass-electrocution as fast as possible. He ran into the midst of the darksphinx riders, teeth and claws at the ready.

[Spell cast: cloak of dreams]

Every darksphinx and rakshasa within 5ft of them dropped into a deep and helpless sleep. The tiger swiped his mercy aside and shredded the sleeping bodies into corpses. 

The bloody cull happened so fast, that none of the riders charging toward the dire tiger realized what had happened until it was far too late. Yicaxi cut them down just as easily and went running after the Arkona enforcers who’d escaped.

He offered no escape, nor mercy either.

[Level up]  
[Level up]

The tiger, covered in blood not his own, stalked back to the site of the massacre. He was drawn by a force worlds stronger than morbid curiosity. Guilt.

The form of the tiger melted away into the smaller, staggering vishkanya. His vision blurred and fogged behind the goggles. He stumbled in a pothole, collapsing onto his hands and knees.

The streets were wet with blood and the other fluids released by the dead. They were horrifically, unforgivingly silent.

Yicaxi screamed. He ripped off his hood, his goggles, his mask. By that time, his screams had turned to wild, shoulder-shaking sobs.

These people, they were a whole continent away from Washfield, but they were no different from anyone back home. They were innocent. They were dead. And it was all, undeniably, Yicaxi’s fault.

If only she’d gotten more information. If only she’d even considered there might’ve been someone in charge here--even illegally, of course illegally.

Now she couldn’t stop crying. Uselessly but unstoppably. She cried until she passed out on the desecrated street.

Incredibly, she woke up to the crisp, chilly air and warm, golden sunlight of morning. Songbirds were singing. Scavenging birds, rodents, and other vermin were feasting.

Old Korvosa’s smuggler overlords had more than likely sent someone to check the site of the massacre, but they’d mistaken Yicaxi for one of the dead. It wasn’t unreasonable. She stank to the stars and was covered in still-damp soilage.

She sat up on her heels in a sullen squat. There was no impetus whatsoever to prestidigit the filth off her. Instead, she numbly pulled up her character sheet.

Her Touch Treatment could now break enchantments. She’d learned a mesmerist trick called Shadow Blend that gave the subject total concealment in dim or darker light. Her Hypnotic Stare had gotten stronger. In addition to turning shadows into difficult terrain, it also imposed its penalty on the subject’s attacks.

The spells were interesting enough to prompt a tilt of the shell-shocked vishkanya’s head. Hypnotic pattern could fascinate a crowd, putting them out of condition for a short time without putting them under. 

Shadow walk allowed Yicaxi and a number of creatures equal to her level to travel 50mph through the Shadow Plane. Due to the shifting nature of shadows, it was impossible to use such travel to arrive precisely at any known destination, but she could travel off in a random direction or “close” to a known location.

As for subjective reality, that was interesting and unnerving enough to merit a close reading.

[Choose one object, creature, or force within sight. You alter your perceptions to become convinced the target is an illusion. For you, the target becomes transparent and does not create sound or smell. Until the spell ends, you can move through the target unimpeded and the target can move through you.

The target’s non-magical attacks cannot harm you, and the target’s magical attacks deal half damage. The target’s non-damaging magical abilities have a 50% chance not to affect you, and you are immune to all its sonic, language-dependent, and scent-based attacks.

However, your attacks deal no damage to the target, and your magical abilities do not affect the target. You or the target can only affect each other normally through intermediaries.]

It was frightening to think anyone had such power. That Yicaxi now had such power. They shuddered, even colder and hollower than before.

The stronger they became, the more people died. No, the more people they killed. What curse ran side-by-side with this fearful power in her veins? Or was it simply the promise of the cruel fate she nursed with every bloody step on this journey.

She snorted out a hollow, empty laugh. Maybe she should’ve gotten married to that Tent City merchant after all.

Speaking of merchants, Yicaxi looked out over the killing field. Each of the rakshasa enforcers had carried a shiny, +1 kukri. Each of the darksphinxes carried two. The vishkanyan death merchant looted a total of 60 off the bodies.

Ecchar could wait until she sold those back in the spit city. If he couldn’t, well, then he was already dead.

Yicaxi rose to their feet. Finally, they had a reason to clean themself off.

They walked away from the market richer than they could ever have imagined. There was 139,700 gp in their save-the-world funds. And it made them sick to see a single coin of it.

There wasn’t enough money in the world to undo the massacre they’d just witnessed. Certainly not in Korvosa, at any rate--every temple and potion brewery was swamped with folk after the cure. 

The streets were thrumming, vibing with celebration and harmonious good cheer. Sick, healthy, and healed alike were partying at every corner. The cure was here! The cure was here! And the plague would be eradicated in a projected three day’s time.

Yicaxi simply eyed them impassively, much like Anatu would have, and continued on their way. Recently, so much more about Anatu had begun to make sense. A dull ache twinged in their chest. They wondered, idly, if the Reborn could be reincarnated by the same exorbitantly priced temple spell as anyone who could afford to find and purchase a flawless, 25,000 gp diamond.

They realized they’d walked in a mental fog when the black marble of Castle Korvosa suddenly loomed before them, bathing all the surrounding city in shadow. The castle itself was built on an ancient four-sided, flat-topped pyramid called the Grand Mastaba, built millennia ago by the Shoanti, a human people in this area predating both the Chelaxians and Varisians. By the current lack of them, they appeared to have been displaced by these later settlers.

One of the shadows overhead moved. Yicaxi looked up. That wasn’t a griffon rider. That was a humanoid in full-plate, gray armor astride a black, honest-to-gods dragon.

A hollow smile, clownish and reckless, spread across his face. Without shaking the fog from his head--if that was even possible in his shell-shocked state--he shifted into a peacock.

He flew, straight as a crow flies, toward the dragon. Rider and draconic steed stared in confusion at the peacock aiming to careen into them.

[Spell cast: subjective reality: dragon]

The dragon swatted at the bird to no avail. The peacock flew through its body as though it were some kind of transparent illusion. And shifted into a golden, hollow-eyed vishkanya.

He grabbed the Gray Maiden’s still-solid legs and yanked. The “intermediary” rider was pulled inside the dragon’s body. This proved instantly fatal for the humanoid and sent the steed spiraling down, belching acid breath and blood.

Poor creature. Yicaxi ended his spell, shifted into his moth-winged tiger, and put the dragon out of its misery before it crash-landed on the castle’s Great Ramp.

[Level up: Mesmerist 16]

The tiger hopped down off his prey to a chorus of terrified screams. They came from civilians. He let them run as he stalked upward. This tiger had business with the queen alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 16]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 1 RP  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 41  
> HP: 256  
> Fortitude: +15  
> Reflex: +24  
> Will: +32  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite plus poison +26/21/16/11, 2 claws +26, hoof kick/tail slap +26  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure 1/day
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion, dominate person, major image, mass suggestion, teleport
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic, detect psychic significance, message  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person, implant urge, sow thought, sleep, shadowfade  
> 2nd-level: lesser restoration, hold person, daze monster, rage, silence, hypnotic pattern  
> 3rd-level: remove blindness/deafness, charm monster, lesser geas, control summoned creature, fiendish wrath  
> 4th-level: restoration, mass charm person, modify memory, greater invisibility, hold monster  
> 5th-level: psychic surgery, cloak of dreams, shadow walk, subjective reality  
> 6th-level: mass hold person, mass invisibility
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 29  
> Dexterity: 38  
> Constitution: 26  
> Intelligence: 24  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 36
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats:  
> Spell Focus (enchantment), Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Spell Focus (illusion)
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Hypnotic Stare, Painful Stare, Reflect Fear, Towering Ego, Gift of Will, Touch Treatment, Astounding Avoidance, Mental Potency, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes, Glib Lie, Slip Bonds, Vision of Blood, Shadow Blend, Spatial Switch
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: locker key, save-the-world funds (139,700 gp), rookie field gear, +4 belt of physical might, +2 headband of vast intelligence, rod of shadowy splendor  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy, Shard of Pride
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	28. A Song for the Weary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yicaxi hasn't seen his/her/their latest character sheet yet, so it'll be posted later

As the dire tiger stalked up toward the courtyard above, Gray Maidens ran down through the main entrance gate to swarm him. Here on the castle grounds, they had left their magical beast griffon mounts at the stables. It made the simple humanoids much easier to handle.

[Spell cast: mass hold person]

They froze in place. With their armor little better than paper against the tiger’s adamantine teeth, the entire battalion could only watch in silent, petrified horror as Yicaxi mowed them down like blocks to a toddler.

Murder, it was murder. But Queen Leos was the real monster here, wasn’t she? So it would all be worth it, wouldn’t it?

The guards at the entrance witnessed the slaughter and dropped the gate. The tiger flew over it into the courtyard, passing through the rain of arrows as harmlessly as a swimming school of fish.

To their credit, the Gray Maidens didn’t run. All of them fought to the bitter, pointless death. On the castle grounds, they were joined by erinyes devils. These denizens of Hell appeared as darkly beautiful angels with feathered wings blackened by ash. 

The devils threw animated ropes made from their own hair at the tiger to try to entangle him. 

Not only was the smilodon as slippery as a snake, but the fey aspected creature was under the effect of freedom of movement as well. He couldn’t be tangled with. Instead, the tiger sprouted huge, moth wings of his own and flew up after the unholy flock of erinyes.

[Spell cast: cloak of dreams]

Devils rained as the dead from the skies around her. She cut them down as they passed. The erinyes hit the ground in a truly lifeless splatter of blood and feather.

[Level up]

The guard inside the castle had seen and barred the doors. They were no use against a reality-warping tiger. Yicaxi simply believed that the doors were an illusion, and suddenly, they were.

The tiger grabbed hold of the arms and legs of the new guard inside--ones wearing red armor and helms shaped like the heads of red mantises. Just like the dragon rider, she yanked them into the subjective door. Fortunately for them, such horrific demise was instantly fatal.

She knocked a few of the armored corpses back inside as she jumped through the door like a performer’s hoop. There was no interdimensional indication that she had entered a dungeon. Perhaps because all the screaming, crying staff who ran to barricade themselves into rooms were innocent.

That was fine. She resolved not to kill anyone who didn’t make an overt attempt on her life. That would make everything...marginally better, surely.

The first stop was the castle dungeons, presumably in the basement levels. She found the descending stairs easily enough. And was rushed by very, very ignorant Gray Maidens.

[Spell cast: mass hold person]

They went down as easily as their companions outside. The dungeons themselves were left guarded by a construct. It was a 15ft statue of a fallen angel. Truly magic, the akaruzug hovered as though impossibly weightless over the ground.

Its face was grim and horned. Gigantic wings and long, clawed arms jutted from its legless body that tapered into a blade-like trunk. Upon its breast hung the fresh remains of Davalus’ crucified corpse.

That hadn’t taken long. Whatever spark of humanity was left in the tiger felt sorry for the physician while Yicaxi took on the akaruzug in combat. Or perhaps it was just more guilt. Especially with Davalus strung up like the marionette they’d turned him into.

What a thankless life. What a thankless death. The construct’s too, though they had no way of knowing if it had actually been alive or simply animated to follow a kill command. Either way, the statue’s shattered remains fell still and quiet, crushing the dead doctor beneath them.

[Level up]

“Ecchar?” they called telepathically down the long, long line of dark cells.

“Yi-Yicaxi?”

They could hear the parched croak even in his mental voice. But they’d heard their teammate’s voice again.

Yicaxi raced down the dungeon hall, their pulse hammering in their ears. Only when they stopped, petrified at the sight, did they hear the tiefling’s heart-rending sobs.

The furious queen had unquestionably decided to make a public example of Ecchar. She’d had his head shaved and cut off his horns. She’d cut out his tongue as well. His arms and legs, cut off at the elbows and knees. The bandages were still wet in addition to being filthy.

“I’m going to kill her. I’m going to kill her.”

“Get me out of here!” His piteous sobbing stabbed the tiger’s knife like a stake through a vampire.

But even reduced to ash from head to tail, Yicaxi had to shake his head and blink away his tears. “If I carry you, a single stray arrow means you’re dead. I’m sorry, Ecchar, but wait for me here just a little while longer.”

“No! No, you f--ing b--d! This is your fault! You did this to me! You get me out right now! I’m done! I just want to go home! I just want to go home!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” It was all the tiger could say as he ran back out of the dungeon.

The tiefling continued crying and screaming in his mental ear. With a leaden heart and mind and gut, Yicaxi cut off their telepathic connection. It felt like murder. Of all his crimes, it was the coldest-blooded killing he’d ever committed.

As the tiger roared in grief and rage back into the castle, he realized he would never be able to cleanse himself of the sins of this lifetime. No wonder he had reincarnated into an amnesiac. In all likelihood, he had just recreated the cycle of the past.

He felt his heart as black as a void as he charged to meet the Red Mantises, wizard, and horned devil who’d come out to stop him. Attempt to, at any rate. Even the spells that hit could only do half damage.

The horned devil conjured bearded devils and hell hounds to join the fray. Yicaxi set his gold, killing gaze on the devil next. As the tiger chomped and rent, he idly recalled seeing a horned devil before. It was back in Westcrown, at Walcourt. Just after Anatu had died.

The stab of guilt pierced deeper than any of the horned devil’s spells. He turned his one telepathic connection back online. The tiger winced as Ecchar’s weeping screams bombarded his skull.

She shut it back off with a sigh of relief. Fine. He was fine. She should’ve implanted her Spatial Switch trick in him just to be safe, but it was too late for that now. And swapping places might backfire just as horrifically as keeping him in place.

[Level up]

Yicaxi charged crashing through the throne room doors. A young adult was on the throne, a human of mixed Taldan and Chelish heritage. They were surrounded by Gray Maidens and hell hounds. But despite all the brutal, bloody battles that had transpired in their castle, the teen queen offered the tiger a dreamy smile.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” said this very weird person on the throne. They continued smiling even as Yicaxi tore through their guards like tissue paper.

Then the tiger ripped off the queen’s face with a single, roaring blow. Their body melted. It was a simulacrum.

Yicaxi raced out of the throne room for the stairs. Wherever the real queen had barricaded themself, they weren’t getting away.

The tiger waded through the army of red and gray guards on the stairs until every step ran red with blood. At long last, she battered down the door at the back of the army’s protection. It crashed and splintered into the royal bedroom.

A young adult identical to the simulacrum was in the crimson, double canopied bed. They were naked except for a shard of a deep red djezet alloy. They were also too consumed with their congress to pay the saber-toothed tiger any mind.

Their partner was an amphisbaenic monstrosity with the body of a mottled, slimy slug. It slithered through the ether with a stomach-wrenching grace. At one extremity of its body was the wormish mouth of a leech. At the other was a knot of three human heads, their features contorted in expressions of incredible pain. Between the teeth of the creature’s human mouths lashed three elongated, writhing tongues, each slashing through the air like hair-thin, deadly blades.

Oh. Yicaxi reached the one and only conclusion of this horrific, soul-scarring farce. Queen Leos was another innocent. Just another victim of the Shards of Sin.

This belier devil in her bed was more than likely the one behind it all. These devils were known to those who studied the Outer Planes as masterful possessors and foul masterminds. They possessed some of the most feared intellects in the Nine Hells with sadistic genius and patient, calculating plots.

It was a vicious fight. But in their devastated mental state, it passed in a kaleidoscopic flash of color before the tiger’s golden eyes. They collapsed, fur matted with blood, to wearily chew from the devil’s wormy mass.

[Level up: Mesmerist 20]

What meaningless words. What meaningless sights.

Yicaxi wearily pushed back up onto their paws. They plodded over the littered, crunching remains of stained glass windows to the broken bed. The crimson canopies had fallen as tattered and listless as battlefield flags--regardless of side.

Queen Leos laid just as broken, the shard still clutched in her lifeless hand. Of course. Because she had been no one at the end--a queen as mindless and possessed as dead Davalus downstairs.

The tiger’s eyes were dry as he plucked the shard from her hand. All of Korvosa could mourn for its queen if it chose to do so after her short, ignominious rein. No, he had truly saddening business back at the dungeon. It was all that kept his automatonic body moving.

Yicaxi returned to Ecchar in the dungeon. He could shut off the mental wailing, but he couldn’t stop the tiefling’s physical, tongue-less cries. He shifted back into a vishkanya and picked Ecchar up in some horrific parody of their first flight together.

He drew the rope from his rookie field gear from his inventory. His fumbling fingers managed to tie it around both their waists. Then he switched Ecchar around onto his back. Even accounting for the vishkanya’s bolstered strength, the tiefling weighed next to nothing.

Yicaxi shifted from vishkanya to Qadiran stallion. Ecchar couldn’t be comfortable, but it couldn’t be worse than anything he’d suffered in the dungeon.

[Spell activated: shadow walk]

Combined with the mesmerist’s Fleet in Shadows trick, Yicaxi could now fast travel back to Cheliax. Not that he could. Despite Ecchar’s demands, the noble tiefling would likely be recognized at any temple in his home country by the priest strong enough to regenerate his body.

The temples in Korvosa weren’t an option, either. They were all dealing with the plagued population.

No, there was a new or perhaps old point on the map of Varisia that Yicaxi had in mind. Five hours vanished in the shadowy blink of a golden eye. The Wild Colts arrived at dusk at the abbey complex known as Windsong.

Or more correctly, the rolling hills just before the abbey. On its eastern, inland side were light forests. To the west were coastal cliffs, the Arcadian Ocean overlooked by a 150ft-tall lighthouse of blue and white marble.

The mare broke into a gallop. Her raucous neighs carried over the peaceful hills. The monks within opened the gates to admit her and her passenger, the tiefling passed out from exhaustion.

As soon as the scurrying monks had retrieved the poor teen off her back, the equally exhausted horse collapsed under him. The bodies blurred together into a distant haze of color.

All faded into black except a strange, haunting sound almost like a distorted music. Every sunset, the wind from the sea blew through the pipe-like tunnels at the base of Windsong Tower. They caught and carried the solemn but peaceful sound throughout the entire complex.

The hairs of the horse’s coat rose on end. Tears flooded Yicaxi’s unseeing eyes. This was the Windsong, Anatu’s Windsong. How beautiful, how terrible a sound.


	29. The Yin and the Yang of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If only Anatu were here

Yicaxi woke in a comfortable, hay-filled stable. That tracked. He was still a Qadiran stallion.

He clip-clopped out under the stars of a cold, frosty night/morning. The courtyard, the entire abbey, had long ago fallen into peaceful silence. Too peaceful.

The restless stallion sprouted his wings and flew over the abbey wall. The lighthouse immediately caught his eye. Prismatic light shone from its lantern room out beneath the stars and over the Arcadian Ocean.

Tears welled in the horse’s eyes. The sight was so heart-wrenchingly lovely that all he could feel was guilt. Grief. Someone like him didn’t deserve such sights. Such sounds.

He descended down to the rustling grass between the abbey, the lighthouse, and the thatched rooftops of a tiny village in the distance. His body felt heavy, every muscle leaden.

“Caxi?”

Horse jumped around, nearly out of his skin. He didn’t know what was more startling--the presence he’d failed to detect or the use of his familiar name.

The speaker was a middle-aged elf slumped over his/her/their knees on the stoop of the lighthouse. He had reddish brown skin and was taller and thinner than a human. His strawberry blond hair fell in long, unwashed tangles. There was a fatigued look in his black-ringed, solid blue eyes. Also, strangely, hope.

Yicaxi shifted into a vishkanya and pulled back his hood to show the Desnan cleric the foreign, scaled face of this lifetime. “So you met me. Just like Anatu. I don’t remember you either.”

The elf’s name was Caszir. He was the lighthouse keeper of the Pharasmae shining out to see there as well as the Head Cleric of Windsong. It was he who had spent all night healing Ecchar.

“What do I owe you?” asked Yicaxi without missing a beat. The process had surely cost a small fortune, but that’s what the save-the-world funds were for.

“Nothing. In fact, all of Windsong is indebted to you, including myself. It’s the least we can do for the horse hero of Windsong,” said Caszir, cracking a wry smile. “Please, you and your friend are welcome to stay with us for as long as you wish. In his case, I highly recommend at least three months for physical and mental rehabilitation.”

Yicaxi said nothing but sat on the corner of the lighthouse step, leaving six feet of space between them. Three months, huh? That didn’t seem long enough. Ecchar had received a lifetime of soul-scarring in that dungeon.

No, the best thing to do was forget. The tiefling should just use whatever RPs he’d gathered to forget and start anew. Nothing in his life could possibly be worth sticking around for after the mistakes and pain he’d amassed.

In fact--Yicaxi pulled up her menu--one Reborn point could purchase a whole new start with something called a “32 point buy.” Sounded fancy, whatever it was. Seeing as she was somehow back at 2 RPs, she could also purchase a “Gold-Rank Rebirth.” That didn’t sound as good as a fresh start.

That sounded like more power. And the more power she got, the more people got hurt. The more she hurt others. That--that just wasn’t acceptable.

“Yicaxi?” The cleric’s voice was as soft as the rustling grass. But stung the tears from her eyes like a handful of sea salt. “Please stay with us. If not for yourself, then for your companion. It would be a significant help in the healing process.”

The teen nodded, not trusting their voice. Already, their tears were falling fast and heavy against the stone and earth.

Yicaxi stayed. The weeks rolled into months, and months into seasons. In all that time, they and the restored tiefling barely spoke a word to each other. They barely spoke a word to anyone at the abbey.

But they would sometimes sit together at the edge of the cliff at dusk, when the painfully serene notes of the Windsong carried through the abbey. They sat in silence in grass, and then snow, overlooking the endless waves of the ocean below. That brief hour was the closest that either of the Reborns got to peace in their waking hours.

But one sunset, when the snow had lightened to the final frosts of young spring, Yicaxi left Ecchar at their spot on the cliff to seek out Caszir. The lighthouse keeper was in the Pharasmae’s lantern room, of course.

“Yicaxi, good, you can help me open the shutters.”

Together, mesmerist and cleric cranked open the shutters between the permanent prismatic sphere and its window over the ocean. At the first crack, its near-blinding light flooded out in joyous flight.

Shielding their eyes, Yicaxi and the elf climbed back down the stairs to Caszir’s neat and tidy kitchen. He poured them both a steaming mug of floral tea.

They sat across from each other at a small wooden table. They sipped in silence. Until Yicaxi finally worked up the nerve to meet his eyes.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“You may ask.”

A brief chuckle rose unbidden from the vishkanya--the cleric sounded just like Anatu. Or perhaps it was Anatu who had remade himself to sound just like Caszir. “I have family back in Taldor. Somewhere in the city of Yanmass.”

Hopefully they’d moved out of the seasonally flooding Washfield with the money from that mummy hand luckstone. But where--“I need to find them. I have some money to give them.”

“Of course. Do you have anything of theirs?”

“I--no.”

“That’s fine. After my meditations, I should have some spells that may still help you to find them. Can you wait for me five hours?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you, Caszir.”

“Think nothing of it. May I ask, do you intend to give this money to them yourself?”

“You mean, am I thinking of leaving?” Yicaxi grinned. The long-unused muscles pulled his mouth into a more subdued or perhaps skewed version of his old grin. But it felt better than expected.

“Cutting straight to the chase, eh? Yes, I suppose I do.”

“Then...yes.” He hadn’t really thought about it, but now that he said it, it was true. 

The business of the shards couldn’t afford to wait. Yes, every stop was as likely to be as messy as Westcrown and Korvosa, but as long as Yicaxi kept to himself, kept a low, stealthy profile, he just might be able to sneak the shards out and minimize the inevitable collateral damage.

It was better than, say, letting another city’s poor population get wiped out by plague. Or worse. The longer those shards were out in the world, the greater their hold, their evil grew.

“There’s something I have to do. Something only I can do. I can’t go to my family myself, but I need to send some money to them to make sure they’re safe before I go.”

“You should say goodbye to Ecchar, then, before you go.”

“I will,” she promised. Whenever that would be. Just speaking up to Caszir had taken all of her massive Will. She wasn’t quite ready to face her silent, distant companion.

“I’m glad to see you’re taking initiative, Yicaxi, but you also needn’t rush yourself. Whatever this business is--”

“Did you hear what happened to Korvosa last fall? To Westcrown before that?”

“Yyyes.”

“Anatu was with me in Westcrown. Ecchar, in Korvosa. If I don’t keep moving--I can’t let anything happen to Windsong.”

The elf’s next words stunned Yicaxi like a blow to the head. “Something will, eventually.”

“How-how can you say that? You-you’re the Head Cleric! And the lighthouse keeper!” She slammed her mug down onto the table with a splash of herbal tea over the edge. “You’re supposed to be the heart and soul of this abbey!”

“Elves live a long time, Yicaxi. Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw Windsong destroyed?”

“N-no.”

“I wasn’t much older than I am now. And when it happened, I ran away to the safety of the Pharasmae and let everyone else to the mercy of the monsters. It was a slaughter.”

“How-how could you?”

“I was a coward. And I’d trapped myself in the lighthouse while the monsters ran rampant over the hills. They didn’t just destroy Windsong. They destroyed the nearby village as well--all innocents.”

Yicaxi could only stare, dumbfounded at the Head Cleric’s confession. So Caszir continued.

“I was locked inside with only the bland food and water I could conjure by magic. And I was locked inside the prison of my unquenchable guilt--a prison of my own making. It would’ve been easy, oh so easy, to have just stopped conjuring food. Even easier to take a knife from the kitchen.”

“Wh-why didn’t you?”

“Because somewhere, deep down inside where I didn’t think I even had a soul left, was a single seed of hope. Stupid, irrepressible, courageous hope. That after everything I’d done, Desna could still forgive me. Still love me. That I could forgive and love myself.”

Yicaxi gave their head the slightest shake, tears dropping onto the tea-stained tabletop. “N-no. No.”

“Pasts are a painful thing, Yicaxi. But they make us who we are. And they have the power to make us better than who we were.”

The vishkanya burst into open-faced sobbing. Caszir walked over to their side of the table. She was too tall standing and too short kneeling, so she bent awkwardly to lend the mesmerist two arms and a shoulder to cry into.

“I don’t--I don’t think I have any hope left,” Yicaxi choked through his irrepressible tears. Business. All he had was business. Then...the hope of wiping it all out, all clean.

“You do. Because you’re still here. You stayed with us. You stayed with Ecchar. Don’t tell me it was just to see that he recovered. You hoped to heal too. And you have.”

“Then why does it hurt? Why does it hurt every hour of every day? Why does it feel like I’m locked away from everyone else? I can’t move on. It’s too much. I’m not--I’m not strong enough,” he sobbed.

“You don’t have to be. You may feel locked behind a glass wall, but you’re not alone. When the time comes, you will shatter that wall with a breath and a smile. You’ve already taken the first steps toward healing--you’re still here.

“You were so strong to make that choice. To live. There is nothing harder in this life. Little by little, it will get easier. But your past is a curse and a blessing--it’s the only thing in this world that will never leave you.

“So hope. Fill your heart with stupid, irrepressible, courageous hope. That one day you will look back and see not merely pain but the knots of your uniquely beautiful, living tapestry.”

Yicaxi snorted a wet bark of laughter. “That what they teach you in cleric school?”

“Maybe. I never paid much attention in class. I learned most things the hard way.”

“The living way.”

“Yes.”

The vishkanya squeezed his eyes shut and let himself hug the elf. Cling to the stupid, hopeful, quietly courageous cleric like the lost, wayward teen he was. 

No. That wasn’t true. She’d found a place here at Windsong. A home away from home.

Her mouth spread in a small, wobbly but genuine smile under the wash of water. “Thanks, Caszir.”

“Anytime, Yicaxi. Now, you and I should both get some rest. I’ll have the spells ready for you tomorrow morning.”

The vishkanya stood. She walked toward the floor hatch only to stop. She turned just enough to glimpse the lighthouse keeper over her shoulder. “I want to send the money, but I don’t think I’ll leave Windsong just yet.”

Caszir gave her a nod of understanding.

Yicaxi left the lighthouse feeling strangely light and springy on the frosted, crunching grass underfoot. The tiniest smile played across her lips as she walked toward the bluff to see if Ecchar was still there. The tiefling wasn’t, but someone else was.

A wrinkled, leathery-skinned old man hunched over a walking stick as he stared out over the water. He had deep olive skin and eyes of darkest violet, so probably Varisian, but it was hard to tell from his advanced age. Despite the frosty Pharast night that only promised to get colder with the dark, his only protection was a tattered cloak over his weathered traveling clothes.

“Oh, Desna! Hey! Hello there! Come with me to the abbey--you’ll catch your death out here.”

The old man’s violet eyes met hers. “Ah, so that’s how you’ve done it. You’re a serpentfolk.”

The world rolled to a sickening, jolting stop.

[Spellcraft: spell identified: time stop]

Yicaxi was frozen solid. All they could do was watch in silently screaming panic as the old man cast off his guise. The years rolled off him until he was a raven-haired young man--or seemed to be. His violet eyes remained ancient. His walking stick had transformed into a shard of black adamantine.

His mouth twisted into a half-smile, half-grimace. “NO ONE is allowed to have more shards than me, you greedy, loathsome snake. Now die!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yicaxi, serpentfolk mesmerist 20]  
> Neutral medium monstrous humanoid  
> Rank: silver, 2 RPs  
> Initiative: +16  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 41  
> HP: 320  
> Fortitude: +16  
> Reflex: +26  
> Will: +34  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 10/cold iron  
> SR: 30
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: shifter’s fury bite plus poison +29/24/19/14, 2 claws +29, hoof kick/tail slap +29  
> Special attacks: Captivating Lure 1/day
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> At-will: ventriloquism  
> 1/day: mirror image, suggestion, dominate person, major image, mass suggestion, teleport
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: detect magic, light, prestidigitation, read magic, detect psychic significance, message  
> 1st-level: remove sickness, charm person, implant urge, sow thought, sleep, shadowfade  
> 2nd-level: lesser restoration, hold person, daze monster, rage, silence, hypnotic pattern  
> 3rd-level: remove blindness/deafness, charm monster, lesser geas, control summoned creature, fiendish wrath, invisibility sphere  
> 4th-level: restoration, mass charm person, modify memory, greater invisibility, hold monster, dream  
> 5th-level: psychic surgery, cloak of dreams, shadow walk, subjective reality, mass suggestion  
> 6th-level: mass hold person, mass invisibility, mass charm monster, permanent image, project image
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 30  
> Dexterity: 38  
> Constitution: 26  
> Intelligence: 24  
> Wisdom: 28  
> Charisma: 36
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse
> 
> Feats:  
> Spell Focus (enchantment), Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Spell Focus (illusion), Combat Reflexes
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Vishkanyan, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only)
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Shifter Bite, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body
> 
> Class abilities: Consummate Liar, Piercing Gaze, Reflect Fear, Towering Ego, Gift of Will, Touch Treatment, Astounding Avoidance, Mental Potency, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes, Glib Lie, Slip Bonds, Vision of Blood, Shadow Blend, Spatial Switch, Cursed Sanction, Umbral Transformation
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: locker key, save-the-world funds (139,700 gp), rookie field gear, +4 belt of physical might, +2 headband of vast intelligence, rod of shadowy splendor  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy, Shard of Pride, Shard of Lust
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	30. Fear Founded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is meta-gaming afoot

Yicaxi had never met a spellcaster of the fake old man’s caliber. He’d never experienced time stop. And in that 30-second eternity, he was about to learn so much more.

The de-aged, unveiled “young” man was no longer in rags but adorned in rich green, gold-trimmed robes. His high brow and the skin of his forearms to the backs of his palms were embedded with magical gemstones just like the ones Captain Jasal had used to test Yicaxi’s rank back at Tallgrasses almost a year ago.

[Spellcraft: item identified: ioun stone]

Only now did he wonder about the mystery of these ioun stones. They were truly mysterious, wondrous items that naturally floated in the air. Pathfinders could place them in their wayfinders to unlock more uses for the otherwise compass-like device. But he’d never heard of embedding them directly into the body.

The spellcaster’s crimson spheres enhanced his Intelligence. The emerald ellipsoids enhanced his hit points. The onyx rhomboids enhanced his Constitution. The amber spindles enhanced all of his resistances.

A magic rod and various wands were tucked in his belt. His ringed fingers released the quickened metamagic rod. A burning glaive materialized in his hand as though drawn from a Reborn’s inventory. He flew 60ft into the air over cliff and coast to rain down the magic of a master caster.

The first was spell turning. It turned spells and spell-likes back on the original caster. The second was cast from a wand--stoneskin. As his skin turned hard as stone, he gained resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, or slashing damage. 

With his monumental defenses in place, the caster turned to area of effect spells. The first was black tentacles. Rubbery black tentacles burrowing up from the grass and the side of the cliff in a 20ft field. They grasped for the frozen vishkanya but were just as frozen in time as himself.

The fourth was forcecage. A 20ft immobile cage of invisible bars of force popped up around Yicaxi. The bars were wide enough that the tentacles could pass through, but not so wide that the vishkanya could squeeze out.

His final act was to ready the spell meteor swarm so that he cast it precisely when the time stop effect ended. In this suspended eternity, the mesmerist realized why. 

She had identified the spell as instantaneous, meaning the damage was done as soon as it was cast. But during time stop, everyone in temporal stasis was immune to all spells and damage except for the caster, who moved normally. Hence the frozen tentacles.

But with that final readiment, the end of the time stop drew nigh. If the tentacles’ grapple succeeded, Yicaxi would be a sitting duck for the meteor swarm and every other spell cast by this shard-bearer. Even if they didn’t, the only way to escape the force cage was by magic. But having to fend off the grasping tentacles would wreck her concentration.

No, the mesmerist had only shot to get out of this fight alive. And it was 50% likely to fail. But Yicaxi just taken the first steps to forgiving, loving, and hoping once more. She’d be d--ned to let anyone take that away from her.

With a second sickening lurch, the time stop stopped. Four spheres of condensed flame streaked from the wizard's stone-embedded hand to Yicaxi in the forcecage below. The black tentacles grabbed at her arms and legs from below.

The mesmerist's golden, Piercing Gaze locked onto the deadliest foe she'd ever faced. With nothing but the chance of a coin toss to save her life, she activated Captivating Lure.

Then the world exploded into blinding, deafening flame.

Yicaxi continued to fight, of course, buoyed by hope and desperation. They used Shadow Body to escape the tentacles and forcecage, even though doing so left them staggered.

The explosion drew Caszir down from the lighthouse and the monks from the abbey. They didn't listen when Yicaxi screamed at them not to come any closer. Fortunately, they were too far away even to get within the area of effects anyway.

The wizard’s caster level was so high and enhanced by Feats that his high-ranking spells easily coasted over Yicaxi’s spell resistance. In fact, he had to be the equivalent of a Level 20 given the damage on his wail of the banshee spells.

The mesmerist’s Fortitude just wasn’t high enough to make the save against his terrible, soul-chilling screams. The first one did 10 points of damage per caster level--reduced to 5 by their penalizing, Piercing Gaze. The second one did overkill.

[You have died.]

The words appeared as light in the darkness that had consumed Yicaxi’s entire world, including their physical being. They existed as nothing but a thinking, reading presence in this limbo between life and death.

Also, listening. There was a distant, distorted hum of music as though from somewhere in the background. They caught similarities to the Windsong, but this haunting tune was as epic as it was serene. Probably due to being impossibly filled out by a full orchestra of instruments. 

It was one of the most beautiful, stirring pieces Yicaxi had ever heard. If they’d still had eyes, they would surely be welled with tears.

[The Reborn Points on your person automatically entitle you to a reincarnation, should you choose to continue your development on this earth. However, you may also forfeit reincarnation and allow your soul to continue to Pharasma’s Boneyard for your judgment and final reward.]

“Wait--what does that make you? What is this? All of it--the menu, the character sheets, the quests, the dungeons?”

There was a pause. As much as there could be a pause in this timeless dimension.

[This is Pathfinder Reborn. It is a system created by a coalition of deities in the form of a game to ready the world to face a calamity of world-ending, world-altering proportions.

Shyka the Many, Eldest of Entropy, Reincarnation, and Time, beholds the coming calamity. They decide that it is in the best interest of the Balance to allow the deities to offer their seeds, the Rebirth Points, to those mortals who accept them.

I am merely the Steward. I am bound by the rules of the game as much as I am animated by them. My knowledge is limited.

I was not given knowledge of which gods created Pathfinder Reborn. I was not given knowledge of the form or time of this calamity.]

Yicaxi’s disembodied consciousness was reeling. A game. A group of gods had gamified life and death--not without reason, but STILL. Holy horses, did he want to punch them.

The game aspect DID kinda make sense with the Eldest involved. They were fey divinities from the First World (which many believed to be the gods’ first draft of the Material and Shadow Planes). Games were their thing.

“Steward, you said this ‘game’ is called ‘Pathfinder Reborn.’ What do pathfinders have to do with it?”

[There are only two ways to obtain quests by which to accumulate RP. The first is through questline items. The second is by receiving a quest from a pathfinder guild hall.

A quest is far more challenging than a standard mission. It does, in fact, involve an entire line of missions that must be successfully completed in order to obtain the RP.

Both pathfinder questlines and questline items are unique. Once one player character or party of player characters has obtained their rewards, the quests cannot be completed again. 

Should the players fail, there can be devastating consequences. In some cases, the entire questline becomes locked into fate and cannot be retried.]

“If no one tries, the threat goes unchecked and you get overrun dungeons, right?”

[Correct.]

“I wonder if this world-ending/-altering calamity comes from the equivalent of an overrun dungeon from before the game.”

Steward was scriptorially silent.

“Well, I’m not gonna abandon this world.” 

Not when she’d just gotten her hope back. Not when her family and friends were still living in it. Not when she stood even the slightest chance of--oh. 

“But the instant I reincarnate, that gods-d--ed wizard is just teleport to my location and hunt down all the vishkanya. Or serpentfolk?”

[Should you choose to be Reborn as a gold rank character, your race and class selections will be limited by the choices you made as a silver rank, but you will have more than one race option.]

Oh. OH. “Just to be safe, is there any way you could swing it so I’m not born in a place with any vishkanya?”

[Your place of rebirth is randomly determined after the limitations you place based on your race and class selection.]

So Yicaxi just had to pick some combination that would land them in a cold climate--they snakes thrived in the heat and sun. It’d have to be an urban one as well. That cliff-blasting shard-bearer struck them as the kind who wouldn’t hesitate to wipe out an entire village if it meant taking down his rival shard-bearer.

That sounded a lot like Envy, but Yicaxi already had that shard, so the wizard must’ve been motivated by something else. Maybe Greed. He’d only come after them after they’d collected more than one shard, after all.

Yicaxi spiritually frowned and perused the races. Vishkanya was one of the options. Serpentfolk was not. 

“Steward, when I’m Reborn, am I gonna have all my faculties as a baby?” Like Anatu. “Or am I gonna have to wait for a near-death/fatal experience to awaken me?”

[Memory loss is the constant, entropic risk in Rebirth, but with your Intelligence stat, the chance of total loss is extremely low unless you will yourself to forget.]

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Or did it? 

Steward was unhelpfully silent.

Of the choices, there was only one they felt confident would limit their spawn point to a potentially urban area without any vishkanya. That was the kayal.

[Descended from humans trapped on the Shadow Plane, fetchlings are creatures of darkness and light intertwined. Generations of contact with that strange plane and its denizens have made fetchlings a race apart from humanity. While fetchlings acknowledge their origins, they exhibit little physical or cultural resemblance to their ancestors on the Material Plane, and are often insulted when compared to humans. Some members of the race also take offense at the name fetchling, as it was given to them by humans who saw them as little more than fetchers of rare materials from the Shadow Plane. Most fetchlings instead prefer to be called kayal, a word borrowed from Aklo that roughly translates to "shadow people" or "dusk dwellers."]

And almost all kayal came from shadow-bound Nidal, the militaristic theocracy beholden to Zon-Kuthon, the sadomasochistic deity of Envy, Pain, Darkness, and Loss who’d been banished to the Shadow Plane by another coalition of concerned deities.

This was not gonna be a pleasant Rebirth. But Yicaxi couldn’t throw in the towel. All the more reason to ‘run away’ from his future home.

Now, to pick a class that ensured he’d wind up in a big city like Pangolais, Nidal’s capital. And, if possible, boost his Fortitude to withstand any more necromantic save-or-dies.

Every such class option promised to lock them into the life of some urban killer--or torturer, if they went divine in Nidal. Except for Occultist.

[The occultist focuses on the world around them, grounded in the powers that flow throughout their environment. They study the magic that infuses everything, from psychic resonances left in everyday items to powerful incantations that fuel the mightiest spells.

The occultist channels their psychic might through implements-items that allow them to focus their power and produce incredible effects. 

For occultists, implements are more than simple tools. They are a repository of history and a tie to the events of the past. The occultist uses these implements to influence and change the present, adding their legend to theirs. Though some of these implements might be magic items in their own right, most of them are merely of historical or personal significance to the occultist.]

It was the class of dusty academics or antiquities merchants, gamified. What academic or merchant worth their salt wouldn’t be near a major city or trade center with easy access to wares?

[Occultist class selected]  
[Secret archetype unlocked: Secret Broker]

“What’s a secret archetype?”

[Every class has archetypes, unique forms in which it can manifest. Secret archetypes are unlocked when race and class harmonize or your choices for this lifetime coincide with the choices made in your past lifetime.]

Yicaxi took a look.

[Whether as spymasters, extortionists, political fixers, or puppet masters, secret brokers use their talents with objects to gain information, then leverage that information for their own purposes.]

Guaranteed--that Secret Broker archetype was GUARANTEED to put her in some urban center with a bunch of movers and shakers.

[Secret Broker secret archetype selected.]

[Secret race unlocked: bogeyman]  
“Bogeyman? Isn’t that a fey? Won’t that affect my spawn point?”

[Your spawn point has already been determined by your current race, class, and archetype selections. Secret race options are unlocked from races already present in the area.]

Well, Pangolais WAS deep in the Uskwood. It was the forest’s heavy canopy that turned even the brightest day possible in gloomy Nidal as dark as the blackest night in the softly glittering city of shadows. So Yicaxi took a look.

[Many believe that the most cruel and mischievous fey become bogeymen as a punishment or a reward for their actions. Others see bogeymen as supernatural manifestations of society’s willingness to do itself harm.

Bogeymen use their powers to haunt houses. They relish using their ghost sound ability to hint at their presence long before they fully reveal themselves. It is not uncommon for a bogeyman to hide under a bed, or in a closet left slightly ajar, for days or even weeks, all the while feeding on its victims’ growing realization that they are not alone.]

OHHH. That was how Yicaxi might end up a master Secret Broker. And, to be honest, their avatar looked almost exactly the same as that of the kayal. 

The influence of the Shadow Plane had drained the color from their avatar’s skin and hair so that both were stark white. Their eyes were gold but pupilless and faintly luminescent like a cat’s. They were lithe and had been bordering on fragile.

The shift to bogeyman made them ominously lanky instead. Their fingernails had blackened and sharpened like claws, their teeth sharpening to points. 

The most striking change was that their avatar had somehow picked up a long, greenish-black coat and tophat. The coat’s interior was a bluish-green patchwork depicting pupiless golden eyes--each one unique in size and shape.

“Okay. I guess that’s it.”

Everything vanished. Everything but the darkness and the distant, distorted hum of music.


	31. Beware the Ides of Pharast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Reborn hero undergoes a shift in alignment

In the heartlands of Nidal, under the black leaves of the Uskwood, the hushed city of Pangolais glittered in a thousand shades of gray. White-cobbled streets ran like rivers of dimmed moonlight underneath sharply arched, rose-windowed cathedrals and grand academies. 

Ancient libraries archived the wisdom and laments of Earthfall’s survivors. Behind walls adorned with ornate carvings of tortured souls in silver and obsidian, scholars delved into the mysteries of the Dark Tapestry and the deepest reaches of the Shadow  
Plane. At the city’s heart was the Cathedral of Exquisite Agony, the greatest temple to Zon-Kuthon in all of Golarion.

Vampires and caligni walked the pale boulevards with perfect  
ease. In elegant cafes, surrounded by fragrant moonflowers and the silvery, mournful melodies of bladed harps, they conversed alongside agents of the Umbral Court and a select handful of foreign dignitaries. This was Shade City--where the distinction between day and night had lost all meaning.

For the wealthy, well-connected, and pious, life in Pangolais was as smooth and gracious as darkness itself. The city offered exquisite dining, jewelry and glasswork of extraordinary craftsmanship, and such spectacles as Kuthite chain-dancers, who whirled spiked chains like ribbons and spun, suspended, from hooks embedded in their pallid skin. It was a place of beauty and sophistication.

Local fashion ran toward floating, layered silk and lace in every shade of gray. Moonstones, onyxes, and smoky quartzes were fashionable in jewelry, but brightly colored gems were considered in poor taste. Piercings, tattoos, brands, and scarifications were common Kuthite devotions turned into elaborate, ornamental body art. 

But the true Kuthite was both masochist and sadist, emulating the Prince of Pain. So the greatest entertainment afforded to the upper class was the vast collection of paupers in its walled slums of a hunting ground.

The smallest affront was grounds to cut out a tongue or even impale one of the powerless on the gleaming, silver sculptures that turned the bodies into artworks above the market squares.  
All for the glory and delight of Zon-Kuthon and his faithful.

Now the mysterious Black Triune was the unquestioned ruler of Nidal and dwelled in the capital, but they rarely made an appearance outside of major religious ceremonies. Day-to-day administration fell to High Mistress Feilan of Shadowmoor. Pangolais’ governor was also an influential member of the theocratic Umbral Court.

Feilan was a severely lovely kayal with black-streaked, ivory hair, and a fondness for flowing gray gowns with capelets of iridescent black feathers. She was a capable and dispassionate administrator but often so absorbed by the duties of governance that she had no time for Kuthite devotions.

She outsourced the zealous infliction of pain to her most trusted agents, Feilan’s Fingers. They were, all of them, evil fey from the black depths of the surrounding Uskwood. The thrifty, business-minded kayal chose them because they accepted payment in means other than coin--blood, raw fear, stolen trinkets, etc.

The deepest secret kept by the governor and her fey agents, however, was that they themselves were pagans who ought to be tortured into the proper faith of the Midnight Lord. No, Feilan’s Fingers worshipped yet another deity banished by other deities to the Shadow Plane thousands of years before Zon-Kuthon. That was Count Ranalc the Traitor, Eldest of the First World.

Like the Dark Prince, he/they were a creature of darkness. But where the more urbane Zon-Kuthon revealed to his flock the value of evil permitted by law, Count Ranalc revelled in chaos of every stripe. Or so it was said. The fey divinity had vanished completely from the world--yet their clerics continued to ply the Traitor’s divine magic.

For now, Feilan justified it by the same logic that the Umbral Court justified allowing the velstracs in the Hall to the Broken Dream to worship Vevelor, a velstrac divinity also of the Shadow Plane. Namely, the vast majority of Nidalese citizens couldn’t discern the difference between Vevelor and Zon-Kuthon. That, and the Umbral Court had plans to eliminate them once they found the ideal agents to do so.

So the life of law and evil was good. But as snowy winter gave way to frosty spring, Feilan felt something lacking in her life. At 63 years old, the kayal had just entered middle age. Many members of the Umbral Court, both living and undead, had sired offspring much earlier in their aging process. Perhaps they had been onto something.

She decided she wanted a child. But the governor didn’t have time to bear and nurture said child for 19 years. One of Feilan’s Fingers, however, offered a cheap and timely alternative.

His/their name was Drin Dealer, and they were a fear-feeding bogeyman. The way that bogeyman propagated was by stealing a newborn babe and performing a secret and profane ritual that steeped the stolen, terrified infant in the fey’s dark, nightmarish essence. If the ritual was successful, a full-grown bogeyman sprang forth from the vile brew. If not, well, at least the fey had eaten well.

That was fine with Feilan. She literally had nothing to lose. She even outsourced the child’s naming to the Finger. Her only stipulation was that Dealer find a kayal newborn. There was no way in shadow the governor would let the Umbral Court believe she’d stooped to the charity of adoption--it would completely ruin her business-savvy reputation.

So Dealer stalked unseen amongst Pangolais’ poor kayal, scouting and terrorizing as he went. It didn’t take long to find a likely target. On the ides of Pharast, he filled the poor kayal’s hovel of a home with such mind-shattering terror that the pregnant one had no choice but to go into panic-induced labor.

Dealer popped out from under the creaky floorboards and snatched the kayal babe before his/her/their first drop of milk. He whisked them away into Feilan’s attic and shut the door. The governor had forbade anyone from disturbing the bogeyman, but the infant’s shrieks would no doubt disturb the busy governor.

He removed his tophat and set it top-down on the ground. It transformed into the bogeyman’s tradition birthing pot--quite indistinguishable from an enlarged version of any region’s black tea kettle. He placed the babe into the pot like a cradle.

First, he conjured darkness into the pot. Then, he used phantasmal killer to create a phantasmal image of the most fearsome creature imaginable--simply by forming the fears of the babe’s subconscious mind into something that their conscious mind could visualize. Only the infant could see and know this most fearsome beast, their personal phantasmal killer.

The phantasm immediately dived into the darkness with the babe in the pot. Dealer shut the lid. The illusion would surely touch the kayal. When it did, the babe would either die of fear, or--

The infant’s wails were stopped short, cut off in mid-cry. The fey stared at the birthing pot in hair-raising, moth-fluttering anticipation. But as the silence stretched from seconds into minutes, his dark-coated shoulders fell.

Ranalc-dang it. He’d botched the brew.

And nearly missed the silent tendril of a gaseous cloud slowly whorl up from the kettle’s spout. He hadn’t botched it!

The cloud soundlessly steamed out from the birthing pot until it formed a vaguely kayal-sized pillar. A greenish-black tophat formed first. Then a matching coat with an inner lining of gold eyes on bluish-green patchwork. Then the suit--silk and lace and shady gray as befitting the locale--if in a much sharper cut. Finally, the fey’s kayal-form body took shape.

All bogeymen had the constant, minor telepathy of detect thoughts. Even one so new as this. His had clearly picked up on Dealer’s impressions of his boss and her desire for a child.

He looked just like the governor might have in her youth. But where Feilan was pale, his skin was so pale as to be almost translucent--every blue-green vein in his kayal-form body was visible. Where her hair was ivory, his was both as ghostly and impenetrable as a bank of white fog. Where her eyes were luminous yellow, his were luminous gold.

They were unnerving eyes, even to the bogeyman as they gazed unblinkingly upward to meet the Dealer’s. The fey surprised themself by throwing their arms around the more petite bogeyman in the unexpected rush of parental pride. They’d never felt so accomplished--no wonder mortals had children!

“Happy birthday, Dier Cleaner!”

For some reason, Dealer caught a flash of a very differently shaped hovel and a very different set of family silhouettes than the one they’d stolen the babe from. But the image vanished just as suddenly. It only occurred to the bogeyman hours later that this was the first and only thought they would ever skim off their preternaturally quiet-minded child.

At the time, they’d hastily dragged the new bogeyman from the attic to meet the governor in her office. “High Mistress! Meet your fully-grown child--Dier Cleaner!”

Their boss looked up from the one of the many ledgers on her desk. She blinked at the sight of the new fey. “She looks just like me.”

“Yes, that’s a feature,” said Dealer.

Dier Cleaner said nothing, simply taking in her other mother with that unblinking, golden gaze.

“Well, she can’t debut with the name ‘Cleaner,’ so she’s going by ‘Dier.’” The governor glanced back down at her ledger. “Dier, you CAN talk, can’t you?”

A silent child was ideal. A mute child was not. Not without having first had some grand, Kuthite-approved, and ludicrously extravagant tongue-removing ceremony to set Feilan’s faith above that of punished commoner’s.

“May I have a ledger, Mother?”

Dealer watched, stupefied, as a smile spread across his boss’ lips at Dier Cleaner’s--Dier’s request. Then again, it HAD appealed to random fey sensibilities as well as random bureaucratic sensibilities.

Feilan opened a draw and held out a brand new ledger for this dapper and delightful, young adult child of hers. Dier was perfect, but she had much to learn if the governor was to plan a debutante ball coinciding with the Umbral Court’s gathering in Pangolais for the Spring Convocation next month in Gozran.

The Umbral Court met only twice a year, in mid-spring and mid-autumn, to issue proclamations, resolve disputes, vote on the initiation of new members, and to hear reports from members and agents. The Black Triune would make one of its rare, yearly appearances to issue Zon-Kuthon's instructions on matters of greatest importance. 

In all lesser business, the Umbral Court would thoroughly discuss matters before a conclusion. Members were forbidden from undermining national interests, so almost all discussions ended in either resolution, or, more likely, delay. After all, the undead faction had all the time in the world. 

Most importantly, members who failed to attend the convocation without explicit dispensation did so under threat of most agonizing death by the Black Triune itself. Meaning everyone would be in the city for a debutante ball held a week before the convocation. Which gave them about three weeks to get the newborn Diet up-to-speed on everything their coming-of-age peers had learned over nearabouts 20 years.

Feilan dispatched the Finger's rusalka, Machete, to Dusk Hall to acquire a tutor at once. Dusk Hall was the number one school of choice for Pangolais' wealthy elite. The compound, which the governor couldn't risk Dier actually attending, was a darkly beautiful, soaring marvel of smoky glass and gothic arches. Not only was it a haven for magical studies, but all pupils were also schooled in the teachings of Zon-Kuthon so that they would bring the Midnight Lord's faith wherever their paths might lead them.

"Dier, darling, it's going to be up to you to absorb everything this tutor has to offer like a right little sponge. If you can't, instead of a debuting at a ball, you're going to debut for a tongue-removal ceremony at the Cathedral of Exquisite Agony. Do you understand?"

The kayal-form fey nodded solemnly, serenely. "Yes, Mother. May I have a headband of vast intellect to help?"

Feilan blinked. She knew bogeymen could detect surface thoughts, but she hadn't given thought to a mental-boosting headband--as excellent an idea as it was. Had it been Dealer? If so, she'd greatly underestimated his own mental capacity.

The new mother snapped back to focus with a smile. "An excellent idea, darling. It'll come out of your allowance for this month. But you'll need to do something about that hat. And the coat."

The kayal watched, yellow eyes widening, as Dier shifted beyond the limits of Dealer's disguise self ability to transform their hat into a pair of small, dark, fang-like earrings, and their coat into a much subtler, fitted suit jacket.

In that moment, Feilan realized she hadn't vicariously given birth to a mere kayal-fey. She'd birthed a kayal-fey with a class. A true heir.

The governor gave herself a mental pat on the back. She sent Dier down to the parlor to await Machete and the tutor. Dealer, she sent to fetch her heir's study-aid headband.

After his first lessons, Dier was finally dismissed to his room, a lavish spectacle of Pangolais' innumerable shades of gray. While the house rested, he snuck out in gaseous form through the fireplace to drift with the Uskwood fog into the slums. There, he walked the shadows amongst the poor, listening to their whispers of the mind, and noting in his ledger which masters, mastrixes, and mistresses were the most sadistic.

Because Dier Cleaner of Pangolais had realized his massive mistake the minute he was Reborn into the Nidalese capital's privilege and power. Namely, the only way to level up was to battle monsters--to the death. But he was unable to leave the city until his Fortitude was strong enough to withstand his wizard murderer's death spells.

Fortunately for the Reborn, the city was home to a host of Nidal's cruellest monsters, living and undead. Dier couldn't have picked a better place to take up the mantle of a serial killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dier Cleaner, bogeyman secret broker occultist 1]  
> NE medium fey  
> Rank: gold, 0 RPs  
> Initiative: +20  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 60ft, scent  
> Aura: deepest fear (30ft)
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 42, shadow blending  
> HP: 17, terrible rejuvenation 5  
> Fortitude: +13  
> Reflex: +16  
> Will: +28  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 15/cold iron  
> SR: 30, resist cold 5, electricity 5
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: 2 shifter’s fury claws +16/11/6/1 (4d6+Str, 19-20/x3)  
> Secondary: bite, hoof  
> Special attacks: painful gaze +10+(6d6), sneak attack +6d6, striking fear
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: detect thoughts, tongues  
> At-will: darkness, gaseous form, ghost sound, invisibility, suggestion  
> 3/day: crushing despair, hold person, quickened phantasmal killer  
> 1/day: disguise self, nightmare
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: read magic  
> 1st-level: mindlink
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 31  
> Dexterity: 43  
> Constitution: 28  
> Intelligence: 32  
> Wisdom: 31  
> Charisma: 43
> 
> Reborn feats: Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Spell Focus (enchantment, illusion)
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Quicken Spell-Like Ability (Phantasmal Killer)
> 
> Feats:
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter Claws, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body, Piercing Gaze, Consummate Liar, Towering Ego, Touch Treatment, Mental Potency, Glib Liar, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes, Astounding Avoidance, Spatial Switch, Umbral Transformation 
> 
> Racial abilities: Deepest Fear, Striking Fear, Terrible Rejuvenation
> 
> Class abilities: Implements, Mental Focus, Sudden Insight, Object Seer
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: headband  
> Implements: ledger of secrets  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy, Shard of Pride, Shard of Lust
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	32. Murders in the Rue Pangolais

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No character sheet just yet, but rest assured that Dier Cleaner is dedicated in growing in leaps and bounds to face the shard-bearing wizard who ended his/her/their second life a month ago

Two weeks before the debutante ball, Feilan received shocking news from her Fingers at the breakfast table. Master Ginoba Rasivrein, a half-drow member of the Umbral Court, had been murdered. Not only had he been murdered, but the preliminary inquiries into his death by Pangolais’ inquisitors suggested he’d been devoured as well.

The half-drow had enemies amongst the court members, certainly--he was the head of trade relations with Zirnakaynin, a drow metropolis deep down in the Sekamina Darklands. But why any of them would have gone so far as to free every one of his numerous slaves was beyond the governor. The city guard had been given leave to search any suspect premises high and low for them, but the slaves appeared to have all fled into the Uskwood.

“Well, that’ll be just as effective as a death sentence.” Though lacking all the torture and spectacle that her official sentence would have afforded all Kuthites.

The outer reaches of the Uskwood weren’t obviously threatening. Simple beech, elm, maple, and oak formed the majority of its outer growth. Travelers noticed nothing other than a curious quiet to the wood, a wan quality to the sun, and the odd movement of shadows not beholden to any light. 

Small villages of farmers and foragers lived cautiously here. Though most hung some form of hair-and-cornhusk effigies or wicker talismans in their cottages. There were plenty of Kuthite ornamentations to appease their overlords as well.

Deeper in, however, the forest changed dramatically. Strange and ancient trees, black-leaved and silvery-trunked, crowded out all traces of sun and moon. A glassy stillness held the air. Pale altars of antler and bone stood in lonely clearings, and ghostly cobwebs billowed among the upper branches.

Nothing transpired here without the knowledge of the Shades of Uskwood, the tribe of alien, extra-planar druids who tended the ancient trees. All of whom were under the command of Masterix Elander of Ridwan, one of the Umbral Court’s most powerful members.

Kuthites through and through, Elander and the Shades and come up with the perfect answer to trespassers in their demesne. The Bonebaskets were hanging gardens in which trespassers were flensed and used to grow food for the faithful. And they were but one of the many innovations they’d cultivated beneath the Uskwood’s leaves. The slaves didn’t stand a lantern’s chance in Xovaikain.

Dier’s fork stabbed his uskfruit with enough enthusiastic force to clink against the fine shadowglass plate below. He apologized before the kayal had finished opening her mouth. “My apologies, Mother. It seems I’m in too much of a hurry to get to my lessons.”

The governor sighed and shook her head with a knowing smile. She couldn’t fault her heir there. She was always racing to get back to her office as well. “Off you go, then.”

“Thank you, Mother.” Dier pushed in his chair and hurried off to the manor library where the live-in tutor waited.

Feilan listened to the faint, fading click of his boots. She noted idly that it was a new addition to his wardrobe. Most likely something he was trying out before the ball.

The tutor, a caligni named Astrag (of Pangolais), had done a marvelous job in preparing Dier thus far. Or perhaps that was just her heir’s astounding potential bolstered by the headband of vast intellect she’d acquired for him. He devoured books four times faster than any student at Dusk Hall and seemed to recall every tidbit of information thrown even vaguely in his direction.

Dier was, quite simply, shaping up to surpass even Feilan’s highest expectations.

One week before the ball, the governor was shocked by her Fingers’ reports of a SECOND murder and devouring of a member of the Umbral Court. This one was an even more powerful personage than Ginoba. She was Mistress Panaxoto of Elith Lorin.

Though home to a population of only 1,500 Nidalese, Elith Lorin’s position on the Usk River had made it one of the country’s most important transportation hubs. It was a picturesque settlement. Its broad market square was home to the Fountain of Shelyn’s Lament--a sculpting masterpiece by THE sculptor Meletir of Nisroch. Chelish investment in the wake of the Everwar had resulted in the building of handsome limestone buildings and the Bridge of Vainglory that spanned the Usk, connecting the northern and southern sides of the town.

The town’s port collected livestock driven down from the Atteran Ranches and produce from the southern plains and routed them west to Nisroch or east to Pangolais. The grand residences that once housed Chelish dignitaries had been repurposed into offices for Panaxoto’s agents. It was her clerks and legates who ensured that the country’s needs were met. 

Moreover, Elith Lorin played a key role in the Black Triune’s control of Nidal’s unruly west--though that duty was equally in the hands of the town’s governor. It was a meeting point for the spies of Nisroch and the inquisitors of Pangolais. Who also kept an eye on the Chelish faculty at its School of the Pale Sun.

The stately, tree-lined campus dominated the town’s southern side. Second in prestige only to Dusk Hall, the School of the Pale Sun trained the agents, emissaries, and shadowcallers marked for service beyond Nidal’s borders. The faculty came primarily from holds throughout the Infernal Empire to ensure the students received instruction in the customs and mores of the wider world. Panaxoto, however, had received Dusk Hall’s superior education. 

The governor sighed and shook her head. It didn’t make sense. The only ones in Nidal powerful enough to take her and her powerful team of agents on in magical combat were members of the Umbral Court. The only members who could afford not to worry about critical food transport were the undead, but they never acted so rashly. Usually, they simply waited for the natural death of someone they hated.

“Because the murderer killed Mistress Panaxoto and her agents but only devoured the Mistress, the investigation was able to glean more information,” said Dealer.

Dier perked up her head to listen. She had added a necklace of dark ribbon to her attire this morning. It was similar to the ribbons used to accentuate long ringlets of hair--hers was too short for such ornamentation. 

No, the ribbon looked better around her neck. It broke up the blue-and-green-lined translucence of her skin with the bold, solid band of its darkness. And subtly suggested a head severed and reattached to a body--a most charming morbidity.

“Go on, then,” said the governor.

“According to the dead, the killer took the form of a saber-toothed tiger. Its fur was black and its stripes were a vibrant bluish-green. Its form blurred and wavered--most likely the effect of a spell. It could also grow and retract giant moth wings, black with blue-green eyespots.”

A magical beast with a taste for rich, powerful influencers? Feilan had never heard of such a thing. “Did some secret druidic project escape the Shades?”

“Masterix Elander has been called to Pangolais for questioning,” said Machete.

Dier raised a pale hand.

“What is it, Dier, darling?”

“Any chance Masterix Elander will stay in the city long enough to attend the ball?”

Clever kayal-fey. After Astrag’s tutelage, she must have learned that Elander never needed city residence during convocations. He/she/they were always surrounded by Uskwood. They could simply tree-step back to one of their favored druid nooks.

“Not unless they’re found guilty, which doesn’t seem likely. Even a Shade project gone wrong would be found incompetence at most. Elander will likely be replaced at the cathedral by a few of their least favorite underlings in a day or so.”

Dier nodded in quiet disappointment but pragmatic understanding. Feilan allowed herself a small, proud smile. Good. Her heir was not one to pine but move forward.

“May I attend to my lessons, Mother?”

“Of course, darling. Off you go.”

The next day, Elander was dead. Feilan gaped at her reporting Fingers in shock.

“--devoured from inside his magically locked suite at the Cathedral of Exquisite Agony,” said Machete.

Face-nails of Zon-Kuthon! What in Xovaikain was going on in Pangolais that a magical beast serial killer was preying on members of the Umbral Court?!

The governor shook her head in disbelief. “They knew.”

This killing was personal in a way the others hadn’t been--targeted. The killer knew Elander would be without his usual protective army of Shades. They knew exactly where he would be, how to get in past the cathedral’s otherworldly defenses undetected, and how to take down the f--ing Archdruid of the Uskwood without raising alarm.

In fact, the previous murders seemed to be nothing but a warm-up and a lure all for this. But the only ones in Nidal who could possibly have known all of this were the well-connected members of the Umbral Court.

“Perhaps there’s an imposter in the court,” Dier idly mused over their steaming cup of moonflower milk tea. 

The newest addition to their attire was the chained skull unholy symbol of Zon-Kuthon painstakingly embroidered on their suitjacket’s lapel. They must’ve spent all night on it because the needlework was so mastefully detailed that they’d captured the seeming of polished darkwood.

The kayal nodded thoughtfully at her heir. With the kind of magic this serial killer was demonstrating, it was more than possible that they’d killed and taken the place of a member of the Umbral Court--perhaps an undead member. Slain vampires always turned to dust, which was as even easier to magically dispose of than blood as it didn’t leave any kind of psychic impression.

“Unfortunately, that’s very plausible,” said Feilan. “The inquisitors must be entertaining the same theory.”

“Should we cancel the ball?”

“N--no. No. This serial killer has only struck at isolated targets. They’re too intelligent to attack a gathering of Nidal’s most powerful. Everyone would be safer, in fact, if we made the debutante ball a week-long affair up to the Convocation a la Chelish extravagances.”

It would be an excellent opportunity for the inquisitors to snoop around as well and gather intelligence while everyone was together. Anyone who failed to join the safety of the congregation would immediately fall under greater suspicion.

The governor chuckled. “In truth, we couldn’t have asked for a better time to host your debut, my darling. Everyone who’s anyone in Nidal will be there and perhaps our foreign dignitaries besides.”

It was perfect. And from what she’d been hearing from Astrag, Dier would die before disappointing.

According to the tutor, her heir was the fastest pupil they’d ever encountered in all their years at Dusk Hall. Dier’s grasp of magic was bar-none, and he would seemingly wake having mastered years’ worth of spells. He had a “voracious appetite for knowledge,” in Astrag’s words.

Such glad tidings nearabouts cancelled out the murders of Pangolais’ serial killer. Not that the city’s governor had failed to respond to such threats. No, Feilan had been in contact with General Mykos Roarik of the Adamant Company, Nidal’s military.

The vampire had initially dismissed her requests for increased security about the city, especially for the resident members of the Umbral Court. With Elander’s murder, the stubborn fool had no more excuse to ignore her. In fact, he’d probably been reprimanded by the Black Triune itself for his miscalculation.

The governor smiled to herself. She was handling this just fine. She stood only to gain more power and esteem, especially with the killer’s capture as the responsibility of the inquisitors rather than herself. The best case scenario, however, was the one in which her Fingers discovered the killer at her heir’s debut.

She sighed to the fading click of Dier’s boots. It was really too much to hope for. Then again, there was no serial killer on earth who wasn’t serving Zon-Kuthon’s dark will in some way, shape, or form. Perhaps the Prince of Pain’s murderous blessing wasn’t finished carving out their terrifying legacy just yet. Perhaps they’d only just begun their service to the Nidalese godhead.


	33. Dier's Debut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dier's character sheet below is his/her/their stats before the initiation confrontation

Just as Feilan had surmised, every single (remaining) member of the Umbral Court--apart from the Black Triune, of course--showed up for the week-long debutante ball at the governor’s grand manor house. There was no safer place to be in all of Pangolais. And no one who’d earned more esteem in the face of her peers than the kayal host.

Her heir, of course, was a vision of severe loveliness at the top of the stairs. Dier’s phantom white hair fell naturally, sweeping over his shoulders. His fang-like earrings and dark ribbon necklace drew attention to his finely angled cheekbones and tapered chin.

His suit jacket had become a dark dress coat over a silvery gray vest. The stitched symbol of the Midnight Lord was prominently displayed on the lapel, drawing attention to the vest’s deep, fashionable front dive. It displayed the beauty of natural, tattoo-like stripes of his blue-green veins.

His fitted black pants tucked into his polished, knee-length boots. The soft click of their heels commanded all eyes as the kayal-fey descended down to meet the enraptured crowd. The members of the Umbral Court parted like silent ripples before the governor’s mysterious, devastating heir.

Dier drew them back in with a soft, amused chuckle. Once more, the conversation, the music, the celebration could begin again. 

Feilan gave her heir a single, subtle nod from across the room. He had killed this crowd and was doing her proud. It was finally time for her to sit back and reap the prestige awards of all the money she’d thrown in his direction.

“I wasn’t aware High Mistress Feilan had a child,” said a grim, soft-spoken vampire. The inner lining of his dress coat was a dark, muted red.

“I wasn’t to be known as a child,” Dier chuckled serenely, “but now that I am of age, it is my pleasure to answer any questions with my own voice, General Roarik.”

“Mykos,” he responded, very unexpectedly.

“General Mykos, then,” she smiled.

“Then I must know,” said a half-elf with a wicked smile and a shimmering, backless gown, “who was Feilan’s lucky stud?”

This was Mistress Meileen ‘the Sun-Dimmer.’ Her specialty service to Zon-Kuthon was destroying relationships by sowing jealousy and distrust, nurturing resentments, and undercutting her victims’ self-esteem.

She would isolate her targets and push them toward vengeful self-destruction. Thereby, they turned into instruments of bitter envy, to Prince of Pain’s delight. Her usual targets were influential leaders in good-aligned nations, but Meileen was known to casually destroy a commoner’s marriage or set siblings a-feud for the sheer joy of spreading misery.

“Not so lucky, I’m afraid,” Dier replied without missing a beat. “They died a Zyphen death back in Shadowmoor--truly, not worth a mention.”

Zyphus, of course, being the Grim Harvestman, god of accidental, pointless deaths. His/their followers fomented tragedy by doing everything they could to increase the likelihood of accidents to strengthen their cult deity. But it was well known that other gods viewed Zyphus as more of an annoyance than an actual threat--truly, not worth a mention.

The Sun-Dimmer, however, would not be appeased so easily. “What a tragedy they never lived to see their own flesh and blood blossom into such an urbane and educated Kuthite. Which school did you graduate from again?”

The half-elf asked fully knowing that there was no record of Dier’s attendance at Dusk Hall or the Pale Sun, the only two academies worthy of wealthy Nidalese patronage. But this young adult’s inviolate grace and composure were her first clue as to why Pangolais’ austere governor had publicly recognized her child and allowed them to debut in highest society.

“Mother provided me with live-in tutors since my earliest days,” said the kayal. “The one who oversaw my graduating thesis was Astrag of Pangolais.”

One of the finest professors and department heads at Dusk Hall itself. Which suggested that all their tutors had come from Dusk Hall--an exorbitant expense and that wasn’t even accounting for the live-in arrangements. Meileen had to end that line of questioning before she inadvertently trumped up Feilan’s reputation above her own. She certainly couldn’t have afforded twenty years of live-in tutors from Dusk Hall and a home graduating thesis defense.

“What WAS your thesis?” asked a husky, metallically raspy voice from the back of the gathered crowd. Charcoal-gray veils fringed with spiked steel rings obscured the caligni’s face and body, but not the fluid grace of her/their movements.

Masterix Virhan of Pangolais had been an inquisitor for the Cathedral of Exquisite Agony before ascending to the Umbral Court. Her old ways were still her favorite devotion to Zon-Kuthon. The caligni expertly hunted down adherents and artifacts of forbidden outside faiths throughout Nidal. 

Thanks to their own agents, the Umbral Court knew that Virhan was currently in pursuit of Night’s Hope. The harp was a Desnan artifact said to send encouraging dreams to the goddess’ faithful and purge the hold of Zon-Kuthon’s shadows. 

It was lost in the Uskwood when a vile Desnan tried using it to force an umbral shepherd out of a relative’s body. Virhan caught the non-believer and had him tortured to death but had yet to find the blasted harp.

“That it is the history of magical artifacts that determines whether or not their aura transcends to become the objects’ equivalent of an eternal soul,” said Dier. “If you’re interested, Masterix Virhan, I’d be more than happy to present it to you over the course of a few dances.”

Much to the surprise of the gathered crowd, the stern hunter took a single step forward and held out their hand. Then again, a series of dances was a small price to pay for a new, potentially useful theory in their favored line of work.

Over the course of the week, Dier related the entire theory to the masterix during their dances. He and the guests also took part in the myriad other recreations also offered at the manor. There were live performances to watch--musicians, dancers, actors, and the like. Attendants strolled the vast gardens in small groups and gathered in larger groups at the luxurious pool and fountain.

The house servants changed out the buffet options hourly, and the bar was always open and flowing. The library, conservatory, studies, and art galleries offered quieter amusements. The gaming rooms were nearly as loud as the ballroom with the privileged participants gambling small fortunes away on cards, billiards, roulette and more--there was little doubt that the governor was actually making money despite her lavish hosting.

As for Dier, he simply let himself enjoy the attention, celebration, and conversation. The party was a fertile breeding ground for the court machinations from every member, but compared to the months of non-stop travel, combat, and tragedy of his old life, it was positively peaceful.

“What are your plans now that you’ve entered society?” asked General Mykos during a quiet garden stroll.

“How do you plan on joining us in the Umbral Court?” asked Mistress Meileen during a lush and stately dance. “There were three recent openings, as I recall.”

Membership into Nidal’s ruling class was not hereditary. It was offered only to those who proved themselves in Kuthite piety and ruthless ability. Even then, the unhallowed initiation rite was notoriously fatal, even for undead candidates.

And once a member, a piece of one’s soul was forever bound to Zon-Kuthon and his unholy realm of Xovaikain on the Shadow Plane. If the member ever committed a heretical act, they were transported to a private, eternal torment-scape of the Dark Prince’s own devising in his realm.

Therefore, the kayal-fey planned to ‘die’ and be Reborn well before committing any act that might warrant candidacy for a place in the Umbral Court. All they would need were the three Rebirth Points necessary to attain Specialist Rank. Thanks to her dabbling in serial killing, she was already nearing her first RP.

“I should like to act as an international agent of Zon-Kuthon’s will and majesty--spread his dark glory throughout Golarion.”

Mykos nodded sagely. “It’s good for the young to travel. To see the world and its endless delights and miseries. Where would you like to go first?”

“Oh, so you won’t be following in your mother’s footsteps,” said Meileen, teasing an insult.

Dier, however, was not so easily baited. “I’ve heard talk of Zirnakaynin recently--a metropolis in the Darklands sounds fascinating.”

“You couldn’t have picked a better place to serve our Midnight Lord,” said Mykos.

“Oh, you must, you really must go,” said Meileen. She couldn’t wait to see the chaotic evil of its demon-worshipping aristocracy chew up this delicate moonflower. Feilan’s heir would either be utterly destroyed or return to Nidal as Pangolais’ most interesting, eligible bachelorex.

Of course, Dier had one more item of business to attend to before they prepared to make their way out into the wide world once again. When the ball ended and the members of the Umbral Court left to attend their spring convocation, the bogeyman in kayal guise spoke to Feilan’s Fingers.

They informed their fellow fey that they would enter the Uskwood just beyond the city limits for a quiet meditation before leaving Pangolais. They asked that none of the Fingers disturbed them there. All listened to their boss’ heir. 

All except Drin Dealer. He followed his bogey-progeny at what should have been an undetectable distance. There was no way he could have accounted for the gold-ranked Reborn’s astounding Perception, however.

Dier Cleaner sighed and steeled their heart. They had hoped to avoid collateral damage this time, but they simply couldn’t delay their reunion any longer. Now there was certain to be a death, and it was the one fey to whom they were inextricably linked.

On the other hand, the cleanest way to proceed would have been to kill Dealer themself after what he was about to witness. Someone else might as well get their hands dirty this time.

As Dier stepped into the midnight embrace of the wood, they dropped their kayal form. They grew tall and ominously lanky, their tophat only adding to their looming stature. Their face hollowed to mocking gauntness, their teeth baring to pointed fangs. Their dark coat lengthened to their knees and their fingernails grew to blackened claws.

The unmistakable bogeyman only stopped when they’d reached a clearing four miles out from the city limits. Here, they could battle in peace, unobserved save for Dealer’s cloud in the soft mist exhaled by the ancient trees.

Sure enough, they stood at the edge of the clearing for a mere ten minutes before their hairs rose at the presence of ungodly arcane power. He was here.

Spheres of condensed flame reigned down from the high ceiling of black leaves above. And disintegrated at first contact with the occultist’s globe of negation.

Not that the wizard was deterred. He’d waited almost two months for this moment after his rival shard-bearer had vanished into his contingency body in Nidal, of all accursed places. He stopped time while his lamia army and lamia priestess-general readied to support and defend him with their lives.

Once more, he set a forcecage around his rival and black tentacles to grapple the solitary fool. But when time resumed its flow, the reincarnated caster escaped his grasp by joining the mists of the Uskwood.

Not one but two shadowy forms took shape amidst the army of lamias. The first was a fey that the wizard now realized was a bogeyman. The second was a dire tiger on giant moth wings. They tore his army to shreds while he cast at them from afar.

The bogeyman fell to his wail of the banshee. The tiger did not, his reincarnated Fortitude impossibly stronger than before. The wizard had never encountered such magic as this.

It was possible that he’d made a miscalculation in coming here to seek out his rival. It was unerringly evident that such realization had come too late.

The shard-bearer tried to teleport back to the safety of his hold on Mhar Massif. But his rival caster had barred all extra-dimensional travel. His violet eyes met the gold of the tiger’s.

She pounced. He screamed. And fell silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dier Cleaner, bogeyman secret broker occultist 13]  
> NE medium fey  
> Rank: gold, 0 RPs  
> Initiative: +20  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent  
> Aura: deepest fear (30ft)
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 42, shadow blending  
> HP: 234, terrible rejuvenation 5  
> Fortitude: +20  
> Reflex: +20  
> Will: +34  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 15/cold iron  
> SR: 30, resist cold 5, electricity 5
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: 2 shifter’s fury claws +25/20/15/10/5 (4d6+Str, 19-20/x3)  
> Secondary: bite, hoof  
> Special attacks: painful gaze +10+(6d6), sneak attack +6d6, striking fear
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: detect thoughts, tongues  
> At-will: darkness, gaseous form, ghost sound, invisibility, suggestion  
> 3/day: crushing despair, hold person, quickened phantasmal killer  
> 1/day: disguise self, nightmare, shadow walk, plane shift
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: read magic, detect magic, message, purify food/drink, daze, mage hand, open/close, resistance  
> 1st-level: mindlink, skim, pass without trace, liberating command, memorize page, alter winds, negate aroma, fastidiousness, alarm  
> 2nd-level: see invisibility, locate object, badger's ferocity, make whole, demand offering, levitate, knock, obscure object, escape alarm  
> 3rd-level: pierce disguise, arcane sight, hostile levitation, tailwind, deep slumber, keen edge, mark of buoyancy, cloak of winds, nondetection  
> 4th-level: commune with texts, detect scrying, mindwipe, planar adaptation, majestic image, mirror transplant, treasure stitching, true form, dimensional anchor  
> 5th-level: true seeing, find quarry, greater forbid action, telekinesis, overland flight, control winds, waft, Nex’s secret workshop, greater dispel magic 
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 31  
> Dexterity: 43  
> Constitution: 31  
> Intelligence: 32  
> Wisdom: 31  
> Charisma: 43
> 
> Reborn feats: Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Spell Focus (enchantment, illusion)
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Quicken Spell-Like Ability (Phantasmal Killer), Improved Critical (Claw)
> 
> Feats: Power Attack, Furious Focus, Vital Strike, Death or Glory, Critical Focus
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter Claws, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body, Piercing Gaze, Consummate Liar, Towering Ego, Touch Treatment, Mental Potency, Glib Liar, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes, Astounding Avoidance, Spatial Switch, Umbral Transformation 
> 
> Racial abilities: Deepest Fear, Striking Fear, Terrible Rejuvenation
> 
> Class abilities: Implements, Mental Focus, Sudden Insight, Object Seer, Broker Secrets, Share Memory, Physical Enhancement, Legacy Weapon, Object Reading, Aura Sight, Quickness, Steal Secret, Glorious Presence, Cloud Mind, Telekinesis, Size Alteration, Erase Secret, Warding Talisman, Mind Barrier, Globe of Negation, Energy Shield
> 
> Combat gear:   
> Other gear: headband  
> Implements: ledger of secrets, boots of speed, ribbon necklace, wooden unholy symbol of Zon-Kuthon  
> Questline items: Shard of Envy, Shard of Pride, Shard of Lust
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	34. My Father's Keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the secret broker occultist obtains some very juicy secrets

[Level up: Secret Broker Occultist 20]  
[Reward earned: +1 RP]

Great, but now that the battle was over, the Shades of the Uskwood would come crawling out of the woodworks to investigate at any second. Dier shifted from tiger to bogeyman. He pocketed the Shard of Greed, grabbed the mangled wizard under one arm and his bogey-parent under the other.

[Shadow walk activated]

He fast-traveled to the nearest settlement in good old, non-diabolist, non-Kuthite Varisia. Which was Korvosa.

But good old shadow walk, now a spell-like, dumped him and his cargo into the murky, slurky waters of the Jeggare River. Which gave him the time and unobserved space to shift into his old vishkanya form. The guise didn’t just feel stiff with disuse. It felt...wrong. Like he was wearing a stranger’s ill-fitting skin over his own face and body.

He knew for a fact there were Nidalese agents in Korvosa, so he couldn’t use his current, go-to guise. Instead, he took the appearance of a simple, Tien human, modelled after Yicaxi’s birth father. Only much younger and dressed in fine, Nidalese traveling clothes under his tophat and dark coat. The water’s filthy drenching actually helped masking that.

So human Dier crawled up onto the mainland bank of the river. It was a bright and early Gozran morning, and it took several blinks to readjust his eyes to the light. He cast persistent image over himself and his cargo so that anyone looking over would sense only riverbank during his adjustment.

Judging from the happy, merchant traffic on the nearby dirt road, Korvosa had made a complete recovery from the blood veil plague over these past few months. He broke into laughing tears of relief. He and Ecchar had done some actual good in the world. They’d truly made a difference.

Dier’s eyes drifted down to the bodies with her. Dealer and the wizard were under her arms in some morbid mockery of support. She laid the bogeyman down on the muddy rushes.

Fey were immortal in the First World. They could be killed and reborn thousands of times over. Drin Dealer had left the safety of his home for reasons she would now never know. He hadn’t been a good person, but he’d been true to his bogeyman nature. Maybe, in a way, that made him a good fey.

Dier lowered her tophat. In a moment of inscrutable instinct--fey, occultist, secret broker, serial killer, or perhaps a mix of them all--she took Dealer’s hat as her own. It shrank to the correct proportions in her hands.

She spun it around to look inside. A black eye with a golden, crescent-moon pupil had been embroidered into the lining. It was the sometimes holy, sometimes unholy symbol of Count Ranalc the Traitor.

She reached down to touch the stitches, follow them with her finger. Her occultist Object Reading activated. Across his entire lifetime, bogeyman’s strongest psychic impression on the tophat wasn’t fear-mongering--which he’d done every day of his life whether he’d needed to feed or not.

No, Drin Dealer’s strongest impression was laughter. Gleeful laughter. Dier cried even harder, even as she smiled through her tears and put on the hat.

Now, for this wizard. Her tears dried.

Even at a passing glance the occultist knew he carried ancient, powerful artifacts. Their auras practically screamed at her to bear witness to their great and terrible histories. For her part...Dier was curious. Compelled to touch and know. After all, what was a secret broker without secrets?

The wizard’s burning glaive, his ioun stones, his tome, his robes, his amulet, and even his finger gloves told the story of Karzoug the Claimer, Runelord of Greed. They spoke to Dier in psychic flashes, sending the strongest impressions coursing through their fingers first. Together, they painted a comprehensive canvas with their objects’ alien eye for detail.

Thousands of years ago during the Age of Legend, Karzoug ruled the Thassilonian realm of Shalast as the (final) Runelord of Greed. He obtained the throne by killing the former runelord, who was also the master wizard under whom he’d apprenticed. Karzoug was able to defeat him because his spells were more diverse--he’d secretly been apprenticing under denizens of the alien Plateau of Leng, a demiplane of nightmares in the Dimension of Dreams.

It was these denizens who gifted him with talons of Leng. In addition to being worth a 67,000 gp fortune, the gold finger gloves had a 1-in-20 chance of rendering anyone attacked by them permanently insane. Those who wore them fared little better--the alien voices of Leng whispered constantly into the wearer’s mind, reducing their Wisdom by -2.

Dier placed the talons in their inventory. They didn’t have the heart to destroy them. Not while they knew that the artifact had its own equivalent of a soul and that it hadn’t asked to be made so dangerous to mortals.

They resumed their psychic reading with the Robes of Xin-Shalast. These were even more costly than the talons, coming in at a cool 198,000 gp. The green, gold-trimmed robes granted the wearer a +6 armor bonus and spell resistance 24. They would be immune to the occluding field that surrounded the Spires of Xin-Shalast, and could exist comfortably in all high altitudes, including Mhar Massif’s “death zone.”

Fashioned for the archmage ruler of Shalast, they also allowed the wearer to cast at +1 caster level. Moreover, two pockets functioned as handy haversacks to hold any and all material spell components.

Harmless enough. Dier marked the Robes of Xin-Shalast for sale or donation.

Xin-Shalast was located on Mhar Massif, highest of the Kodar Mountains, at an altitude of more than 15,000ft. Karzoug chose this location to build his capital city due to the thinness of the veil here between the Material Plane and Leng. 

Leng's influence cloaked Xin-Shalast in magic that prevented most from reaching it. A mountaineering pilgrim could scale one side of Mhar Massif and down the other without ever seeing the city. Which was truly a shame.

During Karzoug's reign, Shalast grew in power. Xin-Shalast became one of the most breathtaking architectural triumphs in Golarion. The runelord hired cyclops architects to create magnificent sprawling structures designed to house armies of giants and hundreds of thousands of smaller subjects.

This grandeur, however, benefited only Karzoug and the nobles. The Claimer ruled with corruption and ruthlessness. He once ordered an entire city to be burnt because the local tax collectors were short a few silvers. 

He was a prickly fellow to say the least. He and the (final) Runelord of Wrath, Alaznist, were in a state of perpetual warfare. They constantly battled at the border between Shalast and Bakrakhan. Karzoug’s burning glaive saw more than its fair share of use.

The glaive, worth 180,500 gp, had been crafted by Emperor Xin himself after the founding of Thassilon. It was one of seven iconic weapons intended for the runelords to symbolize their mastery of rune magic and realm. Each had a keen intellect meant to embody all that was right and virtuous about the luxury of wealth.

But when the first runelords betrayed the emperor and sundered the Sihedron, their iconic weapons fell as vulnerable to the curse of the shards as themselves. Now the burning glaive was concerned only with the acquisition of riches and safeguarding the treasures of the “rightful” runelord of Shalast.

It eagerly sought to immolate non-spellcasters with its flaming magic. It regarded them as paupers out to steal what its master possessed. The glaive endlessly fawned over Karzoug and was palpably hostile to Dier, its “looter.”

The occultist shook his head. Yeah, no. Unless reuniting all the shards reversed this dude’s attitude, he slotted it in his inventory to disappear with his body whenever he obtained the next two RPs.

He continued with the Sihedron Tome. The jolt from his fingers sent stock still. Though relatively harmless compared to the elitist, pyromaniacal glaive, the tome was literally priceless.

Crafted by a dragon in service to Emperor Xin, the Sihedron Tome of Greed held infinite pages on which to inscribe spells. In addition to holding an ancient library’s worth of arcane knowledge, any wizard who prepared spells from the tome did so at +6 Intelligence.

Here, the Claimer had devised an occult ritual to travel to the past. Dier gaped, his jaw remaining slack as he read through the tome’s memories.

In the year before Earthfall, Karzoug’s star cyclopean architect and engineer finished construction of the stone Cyphergate outside what was now the Varisian city-state of Riddleport. Though modern folk believed it to be an ancient stone arch spanning the bay, it actually formed a complete ring beneath the sea and earth.

Using Karzoug’s ritual, the Cyphergate could act as a portal to the Dimension of Time. He’d murdered his engineer to keep the secret. He’d planned to travel back, but never finished his research into how to do so safely before the cataclysm of Earthfall.

Which brought Dier to the last, ancient major artifact. She put the tome into her inventory until she could find someone to be trusted with the Cyphergate secret. Then picked up the gold and green crystal runewell amulet.

Again, priceless. She shouldn’t have been shocked at this point, but she was, nonetheless. It granted the wearer +5 to natural armor. It also attuned them to the runewell of greed and the soul lens that controlled it.

In order to survive Earthfall and the destruction of Thassilon, Karzoug used his runewell in Xin-Shalast to create a demiplane sanctuary known as the Eye of Avarice. Within, the wearer of the amulet neither aged nor had need of sustenance.

They could move about the interior of the runewell at a fly speed of 60ft. The wearer was sustained by the souls absorbed by the runewell and, as a result, gained fast healing 10.

Shadows d--n it! The amulet had been perfect for sale or donation right up until that soul-consuming bit. But perhaps Dier could sort that out after she dealt with the runewell.

Which she had to. Because every item had given her glimpses of Xin-Shalast now.

Four years ago, a stone giant wizard accidentally triggered the runewell of Greed and awoke Karzoug within the Eye of Avarice. The runelord rose and beheld the ancient ruin of his city, now a city-sized dungeon home to the most powerful monsters on Mhar Massif.

He immediately went to work turning them to his purpose. He trained them as armies of giants, lamias, and more--all to invade and reclaim all of Varisia as the seat of the Claimer’s new Empire of Shalast. He’d already begun making his way down the mountain when he’d gotten distracted by SOMEONE’s greedy acquisition of multiple Sihedron shards.

Karzoug’s conquest was on hold, but no one could say for how long. He’d trained his mighty generals to be fearsome powers in their own right. With the monster army already mobilized outside the dungeon, they were poised to continue the bloody, land-grabbing, and slave-making conquest as soon as they tired of waiting for their vanished emperor.

“Ok. Easy. Easy. We can do this. One thing at a time.” Dier stopped to take a minute of deep, steadying breaths. 

Gear. There was still more gear to loot. They donned Karzoug’s belt of giant strength and boots of dexterity. The wands, rings, and ioun stones, they put away for sale or donation.

They were also still cold, wounded, drenched, and soiled from the last battle. So Dier shifted back into a tiger. They devoured all the evidence of Karzoug and Drin Dealer’s bodies except for the runelord’s skull.

[A Thousand Faces activated: human]

Dier saved just the top half of the skull to use as an implement for their newly learned, necromantic occultist powers. Using their treasure stitching spell, they added it to the coat lapel opposite of Elander’s Kuthite unholy symbol. They added embroidered chains from the eye sockets so that the two implements were charmingly mismatched in color alone.

[Spell cast: fastidiousness]

In the course of a minute, all blood, water, dirt, and other debris sloughed off Dier’s gear and person. The removed matter plopped unceremoniously into the mud. The splatter slid off his coat and boots just as cleanly.

He dismissed his illusion and walked up as innocuously as he could to join the mid-morning caravan traffic on the road. His thoughts were clear-er as he headed for the farthest inn on the northeast edge of Korvosan city limits.

Rest. He needed rest to face what laid ahead. Eyes already bleary with weariness, he walked right up to middle-aged, half-orc innkeeper and fumbled an emerald ellipsoid onto the counter. The 20,000 gp ioun stone immediately floated up to hover a hand’s length over the worn wood.

The innkeep snatched it into an apron pocket with a furtive glance at the other patrons. Dier was beyond caring if someone had seen or not. He’d just spell up a quick alarm in his room before passing out.

“Right this way--nicest room in the inn.”

“Thanks,” Dier mumbled. Or he was pretty sure he did. 

Seemed he’d passed out before he hit the bed’s worn, patchwork quilt. The last thing he recalled was the half-orc’s hope that another successful pathfinder at the inn was a good omen for the spring season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dier Cleaner, bogeyman secret broker occultist 20]  
> NE medium fey  
> Rank: gold, 1 RPs  
> Initiative: +23  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent  
> Aura: deepest fear (30ft)
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 45, shadow blending  
> HP: 380, terrible rejuvenation 5  
> Fortitude: +25  
> Reflex: +25  
> Will: +38  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 15/cold iron  
> SR: 30, resist cold 5, electricity 5
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: 2 shifter’s fury claws +34/29/24/19/14/9/4 (4d6+Str, 19-20/x3)  
> Secondary: bite, hoof  
> Special attacks: painful gaze +10+(6d6), sneak attack +6d6, striking fear
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: detect thoughts, tongues  
> At-will: darkness, gaseous form, ghost sound, invisibility, suggestion  
> 3/day: crushing despair, hold person, quickened phantasmal killer  
> 1/day: disguise self, nightmare, shadow walk, plane shift
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: read magic, detect magic, message, purify food/drink, daze, mage hand, open/close, resistance, grave words, touch of fatigue  
> 1st-level: mindlink, skim, pass without trace, liberating command, memorize page, alter winds, negate aroma, fastidiousness, alarm, restore corpse, sculpt corpse, illusion of calm, mask dweomer, magic aura  
> 2nd-level: see invisibility, locate object, badger's ferocity, make whole, demand offering, levitate, knock, obscure object, escape alarm, scare, purge spirit, misdirection, shifted steps, phantom trap  
> 3rd-level: pierce disguise, arcane sight, hostile levitation, tailwind, deep slumber, keen edge, mark of buoyancy, cloak of winds, nondetection, flesh puppet, sessile spirit, instinct fake, aura alteration, vision of Hell  
> 4th-level: commune with texts, detect scrying, mindwipe, planar adaptation, majestic image, mirror transplant, treasure stitching, true form, dimensional anchor, flesh puppet horde, fear, greater invisibility, quieting weapons, wandering star motes  
> 5th-level: true seeing, find quarry, greater forbid action, telekinesis, overland flight, control winds, waft, Nex’s secret workshop, greater dispel magic, entrap spirit, unwilling shield, false vision, mislead, persistent image  
> 6th-level: greater scrying, soulseeker, cloak of dreams, transfiguring touch, artificer’s curse, disintegrate, control construct, antimagic field, repulsion, harm, plundered power, permanent image, project image, triggered hallucination
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 38  
> Dexterity: 49  
> Constitution: 32  
> Intelligence: 32  
> Wisdom: 31  
> Charisma: 43
> 
> Reborn feats: Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Spell Focus (enchantment, illusion)
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Quicken Spell-Like Ability (Phantasmal Killer), Improved Critical (Claw)
> 
> Feats: Power Attack, Furious Focus, Vital Strike, Death or Glory, Critical Focus
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter Claws, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body, Piercing Gaze, Consummate Liar, Towering Ego, Touch Treatment, Mental Potency, Glib Liar, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes, Astounding Avoidance, Spatial Switch, Umbral Transformation 
> 
> Racial abilities: Deepest Fear, Striking Fear, Terrible Rejuvenation
> 
> Class abilities: Implements, Mental Focus, Sudden Insight, Object Seer, Broker Secrets, Share Memory, Physical Enhancement, Legacy Weapon, Object Reading, Aura Sight, Quickness, Steal Secret, Glorious Presence, Cloud Mind, Telekinesis, Size Alteration, Warding Talisman, Mind Barrier, Globe of Negation, Energy Shield, Purge Secret, Necromantic Focus, Mind Fear, Necromantic Servant, Pain Wave, Distortion, Minor Figment, Shadow Beast, Mirage, Color Beam
> 
> Combat gear:   
> Other gear: loot, headband, belt, talons of Leng, Robes of Xin-Shalast, Karzoug’s burning glaive, Sihedron Tome, runewell amulet of Greed, boots of speed  
> Implements: ledger of secrets, boots, Panaxoto's ribbon necklace, Elander's wooden unholy symbol of Zon-Kuthon, Karzoug's skull, Drin Dealer’s top hat  
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	35. The Windbacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From water to earth to air

It'd taken until mid-Gozran, but business at the Dancing Pony was finally picking up. There'd been a rough patch since the start of late teen Queen Eos' rule, the month of plague, which she'd paid to disperse, the chaos in the wake of her death by exotic tiger, and the initial unrest after rakshasa sibling smugglers Bahor and Vimana Arkona had seized the throne.

Truth be told, Sablin had figured they and their Dancing Pony were on their last ride. But it was a pleasantly cool spring evening. A warm fire crackled in the hearth. And there were five young, whippersnapper pathfinders at the tables.

The group of four were on their second night--three were homegrown Korvosans. Their leader was the no-nonsense teen in a chain shirt. She had brown skin, a braid of dark brown hard, and flinty, dark brown eyes.

The much more talkative Tien with her/their silvery-black hair in held back in multiple silky tails was her second. And, if Sablin remembered their pathfinder lingo correctly, the "party face." It was Gouqi, as they were called, who'd told Sablin about their group, the Windbacks.

Gouqi and the leader had left Korvosa for Magnimar to become bonafide pathfinders. They'd only recently turned 17 and got their wayfinders. At which time they'd immediately returned to their home city with the young elf in tow.

Laconte, a grayish-pale elf with a long, fluid mane of ink-black hair, was one of the prettiest elves Sablin had ever seen. The innkeep could also tell from a single glance that he/they were a lazy rogue, rake, and ne'er-do-well. That big-city scoundrel had no doubt suckered their human peers into pulling their weight along for the loot.

From the green-eyed glare of the team's spellcaster, he was also of the same mind concerning Laconte. The olive-skinned Korvosan was the youngest of the Windbacks with a tangle of white-blond curls. He was also some kind of prodigy.

While the leader and Gouqi had gone off to Magnimar, he'd already been rising through the student ranks at Korvosa's world-renowned Acadamae of the Arcane Arts. He'd recently graduated at a mere 15 years as a full-fledged wizard. Which prompted the two and the elf to pick up their childhood friend to go adventuring together.

They'd had moderate luck clearing out a low-level dungeon not far from the mainland side of the city, but they were looking for something more exciting. Something that'd help them make a name for the Windbacks--

"Something to put us on the map, you know?" said Gouqi.

"You should try that out-of-towner," said Sablin, tilting their head as inconspicuously as they could toward the teen Tien in a dark coat and tophat.

Despite his youth, he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his back. He was also brazen enough to walk around with not one but two symbols of unholy Kuthite faith on his lapels. Even more outrageously, he'd recently bejeweled his hatband with crimson and onyx gems of the same kind he'd used to pay Sablin for an unlimited tab at the Dancing Pony.

He was either the dumbest, luckiest idiot who'd ever trotted into the inn--including the horses--or he was obscenely powerful. More than any pathfinder Sablin had ever encountered these past 30 years. Truth be told, the half-orc was inclined towards the second option.

Nobody THAT world-wearied could possibly be THAT dumb.

"I don't think that's a good idea," said the wizard, him and his white-furred, green-eyed cat familiar shaking their heads. "I can't see his alignment. Why wear the symbols of Golarion's worst lawful evil deity AND hide your alignment? That's way too suspicious."

"I can't vouch for her character," said Sablin, "but she did pay upfront. With this." They pulled the emerald ellipsoid out of their apron pocket.

"So, treasure," said the leader, not particularly impressed.

The innkeeper opened their hand. The gem levitated a hand's length over their palm.

"Ooo, magic treasure," said Gouqi as the half-orc hastily secreted it back into their pocket.

"She just asked me to mail a box of them off to Windsong Abbey--that 'peaceful place for all faiths' out on the Lost Coast."

"Squad," said Laconte, his lazy, urbane drawl snatching everyone's attention, "that's an ioun stone. I'm sure Mr. Wizar here can tell you more, but as far as loot goes, flawless emeralds like that go for 20,000 gp. Each."

The leader let out a hushed, low whistle. "That true, Tycane?"

"Technically. Yes." Ioun stones, also known as Azlanti stones, were ancient, powerful, and still very mysterious artifacts first crafted by the lost Empire of Azlant. Supposedly, the Thassilonians refined their use for even more purposes. Which, despite both pathfinder and arcane academy studies, none could puzzle out. "They--they're--hrmph. They could only have come from an Azlanti or Thassilonian ruin. BUT that doesn't mean this total stranger knows anything about it."

"You wanna bet on it?" grinned the elf.

"No!" snapped Tycane. Even he had to admit it looked pretty likely that the lone pathfinder had lost her party raiding whatever high-level dungeon the ioun stones came from.

"Gouqi, why don't you go over there and feel them out for us," said the leader.

"On it, boss," they saluted, hopping to their feet.

30 feet from his table, Gouqi froze. Whether by skill or the luck of the North Star--Desna, she was called in Avistan--they’d just saved against a spell. Detect thoughts.

The stranger looked up from his half-eaten breakfast/dinner. His eyes met Gouqi’s. They smiled and waved.

“Hi--”

He stood, chair legs scraping against the floor, head turned toward the door.

Gouqi jumped between him and the exit, startling other diners but not the other drunks. “Wait! Please! You’re a pathfinder, right?”

They spoke to the Kuthite in Tien, but thanks to their truespeech, he’d hear them in whatever language he was accustomed to speak in. Which, apparently, was Nidal’s Shadowtongue--a hissing, whispery mix of Taldane, Infernal, and Azlanti.

The other Tien, a Tian-La, if they weren’t mistaken, blinked. Then shut his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh. “What’s your dungeon problem?”

“Actually,” said Gouqi, stepping up close to put their cute button nose in his face, “we were hoping to help you with yours.”

They threw a thumb over their shoulder at the table on the other side of the room. Their leader gave a single nod. Tycane glowered over his crossed arms. Laconte smiled and winked.

The stranger looked from Gouqi to the table and back to Gouqi. Blankly.

“We’re pathfinders, too, see? I’m Gouqi, and that’s my party, the Windbacks. Come sit with us.”

“You seem really nice, but I really don’t have time to go dungeoneering with a bunch of kids.”

“Oof. Hey, we’re not just kids. We’re silvers--three of us, anyway. And Laconte there’s the best rogue this side of the Inner Sea--level 20 material for sure.”

The Kuthite pathfinder frowned, but it was clear they knew enough about silvers and levels to take the Windbacks seriously. “You all level 20?”

“We’re well on our way,” Gouqi assured her with her past’s bardic confidence.

But the stranger shook her head. “That’s not good enough. I’ve seen too many people, well-intentioned and under-prepared, get their butts handed to them. And worse. I’m gonna need to see some stats.”

Woah, ok, so she was definitely a Reborn. There was no way she’d know so much about the character sheets otherwise. But that was private stuff--and she had to know it.

Gouqi smiled. “Then take a seat, Pathfinder--?”

She kept the frown but gave a nod of compromise. “Caxi.”

“Great! Nice to meet you, Caxi.” She hooked her arm through the Kuthite’s and led her back to the Windbacks’ table. “Hey everyone! Meet my new friend, Pathfinder Caxi. Caxi, that’s our rogue, Laconte. That’s our wizard prodigy, Tycane. And this our magnificent leader, Eletho.”

“I can see you’ve been taken by Gouqi’s charms--no need to be shy, we all are--but if you’re interested, I love to share,” said Laconte.

“No,” said Caxi flatly.

“Yeah, shut up, Laconte,” said Eletho. “Tycane, move over.”

The wizard switched seats so the Kuthite could sit between him and Gouqi, who stuck her tongue out at the elf. Which brought the tiniest smile to his lips despite being elbow-to-elbow with the two people he trusted least at the table.

“Good to have you with us,” said Eletho.

“Woah, not so fast. I need to see every Reborn’s stats first--just defenses and ability scores should be enough.”

“That high level of a dungeon, huh?” remarked the leader, pulling a field journal out of her inventory.

Caxi shut their eyes and shook their head. “An entire city. Overrun by armies of monsters. Yetis. Giants. Outsiders and aberrations.” Their eyes opened, flashing darkly. “I’m not letting anyone near that place who doesn’t stand half a chance of surviving.”

“Fine by me,” said Gouqi, sliding over a scrap of paper.

[Defense]  
AC: 29  
HP: 128  
Fortitude: 14  
Reflex: 6  
Will: 13  
Immune: electricity, petrification  
DR: 10/cold iron or evil  
SR: 17, resist cold 10, fire 10, well-versed

[Statistics]  
Strength: 26  
Dexterity: 24  
Constitution: 26  
Intelligence: 20  
Wisdom: 24  
Charisma: 24

The Kuthite stared. “Oh. What level are you?”

“I’m a level 8 cleric of the north star,” said Gouqi.

“Level 8 mobile fighter,” said Eletho, passing down her stats as well.

[Defense]  
AC: 26  
HP: 112  
Fortitude: 12  
Reflex: 9  
Will: 6  
Immune: magic sleep  
SR: +2 v. enchantment

[Statistics]  
Strength: 24  
Dexterity: 20  
Constitution: 18  
Intelligence: 24  
Wisdom: 14  
Charisma: 14

“You’re all only level 8?”

“Why, what level are you?” asked Tycane, passing his down last.

[Defense]  
AC: 32  
HP: 120  
Fortitude: 11  
Reflex: 13  
Will: 13  
Immune: cold, fire, mind-affecting  
DR: 10/cold iron and magic  
SR: 26

[Statistics]  
Strength: 29  
Dexterity: 32  
Constitution: 28  
Intelligence: 34  
Wisdom: 24  
Charisma: 27

“Occultist, level 20,” said ‘Caxi,’ continuing to stare in disbelief. The three must have...maximized their stats in their past life--level 8 silvers and they were already on track to surpass him.

It was the first stroke of good fortune he’d had since...since Windsong. 1.5 months and an entire lifetime ago, it seemed. Sure, they were Korvosan, so he’d need to avoid the tiger form that’d stormed their castle and inadvertently killed their shard-bearing queen, but he no longer needed an animal’s form to be a killing beast.

“O-K. Ok. We can do this. What do you know about the lost city of Xin-Shalast?”

“Not so fast,” said Eletho.

“They showed you theirs,” said Laconte. “You show us yours.”

That was fair, sure. But for some reason, Caxi didn’t want them knowing he was gold rank. Perhaps he simply didn’t totally trust them. So he flipped Gouqi’s sheet over and jotted down his former life’s defenses and ability scores.

“You must be a prodigy, too,” said Gouqi, smiling excitedly.

“Good gear accounts for most of it, but being level 20 helps,” she lied. Seemed she always fell back on this as her natural tongue no matter what language she was speaking.

Laconte tapped a long, manicured finger onto her paper. They pulled it toward them, along with the others. “Yeah, no, I have no idea what any of these numbers mean.” The elf shrugged unhelpfully and took a nonplussed sip from their chipped, clay mug.

“That’s gonna be a no on Xin-Shalast,” said Eletho. “Tell us everything.”

Caxi told them the few but essential details they’d learned from Karzoug’s artifacts without mentioning the runelord or the specific items she’d looted off his now-devoured corpse.

Tycane nodded as she spoke. “That lines up with what I remember from the Acadamae. Gouqi, we’ll need your communal endure elements spell to survive that high up Mhar Massif. But Caxi, unless you already know exactly where Xin-Shalast is, there’s no way to find it. People have literally been searching for thousands of years--”

“The occluding field. I know, and I have way past it. Once we’re in range, we can fast travel right there.”

“Actually,” said Gouqi, “we can’t fast travel.”

“Laconte isn’t Reborn,” Eletho succinctly explained.

Of course. You needed a menu and its map to fast travel. But without one, it meant hours upon hours, day after day, of physically walking with these strangers through the wilds of the Shadow Plane.

Caxi cringed at the thought, suddenly reconsidering. But Gouqi threw an arm around their shoulders.

“Welcome to the Windbacks, Caxi!”

Too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dier Cleaner "Caxi," bogeyman secret broker occultist 20]  
> NE medium fey  
> Rank: gold, 1 RPs  
> Initiative: +23  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent  
> Aura: deepest fear (30ft)
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 45, shadow blending  
> HP: 440, terrible rejuvenation 5  
> Fortitude: +28  
> Reflex: +25  
> Will: +38  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 15/cold iron  
> SR: 30, resist cold 5, electricity 5
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: 2 shifter’s fury claws +34/29/24/19/14/9/4 (4d6+Str, 19-20/x3)  
> Secondary: bite, hoof  
> Special attacks: painful gaze +10+(6d6), sneak attack +6d6, striking fear
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: detect thoughts, tongues  
> At-will: darkness, gaseous form, ghost sound, invisibility, suggestion  
> 3/day: crushing despair, hold person, quickened phantasmal killer  
> 1/day: disguise self, nightmare, shadow walk, plane shift
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: read magic, detect magic, message, purify food/drink, daze, mage hand, open/close, resistance, grave words, touch of fatigue  
> 1st-level: mindlink, skim, pass without trace, liberating command, memorize page, alter winds, negate aroma, fastidiousness, alarm, restore corpse, sculpt corpse, illusion of calm, mask dweomer, magic aura  
> 2nd-level: see invisibility, locate object, badger's ferocity, make whole, demand offering, levitate, knock, obscure object, escape alarm, scare, purge spirit, misdirection, shifted steps, phantom trap  
> 3rd-level: pierce disguise, arcane sight, hostile levitation, tailwind, deep slumber, keen edge, mark of buoyancy, cloak of winds, nondetection, flesh puppet, sessile spirit, instinct fake, aura alteration, vision of Hell  
> 4th-level: commune with texts, detect scrying, mindwipe, planar adaptation, majestic image, mirror transplant, treasure stitching, true form, dimensional anchor, flesh puppet horde, fear, greater invisibility, quieting weapons, wandering star motes  
> 5th-level: true seeing, find quarry, greater forbid action, telekinesis, overland flight, control winds, waft, Nex’s secret workshop, greater dispel magic, entrap spirit, unwilling shield, false vision, mislead, persistent image  
> 6th-level: greater scrying, soulseeker, cloak of dreams, transfiguring touch, artificer’s curse, disintegrate, control construct, antimagic field, repulsion, harm, plundered power, permanent image, project image, triggered hallucination
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 38  
> Dexterity: 49  
> Constitution: 38  
> Intelligence: 38  
> Wisdom: 31  
> Charisma: 43
> 
> Reborn feats: Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Spell Focus (enchantment, illusion)
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Quicken Spell-Like Ability (Phantasmal Killer), Improved Critical (Claw)
> 
> Feats: Power Attack, Furious Focus, Vital Strike, Death or Glory, Critical Focus, Solid Shadows, Intensify Spell, Quicken Spell, Maximize Spell, Empower Spell
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter Claws, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body, Piercing Gaze, Consummate Liar, Towering Ego, Touch Treatment, Mental Potency, Glib Liar, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes, Astounding Avoidance, Spatial Switch, Umbral Transformation 
> 
> Racial abilities: Deepest Fear, Striking Fear, Terrible Rejuvenation
> 
> Class abilities: Implements, Mental Focus, Sudden Insight, Object Seer, Broker Secrets, Share Memory, Physical Enhancement, Legacy Weapon, Object Reading, Aura Sight, Quickness, Steal Secret, Glorious Presence, Cloud Mind, Telekinesis, Size Alteration, Warding Talisman, Mind Barrier, Globe of Negation, Energy Shield, Purge Secret, Necromantic Focus, Mind Fear, Necromantic Servant, Pain Wave, Distortion, Minor Figment, Shadow Beast, Mirage, Color Beam
> 
> Combat gear:   
> Other gear: loot, talons of Leng, Robes of Xin-Shalast, Karzoug’s burning glaive, Sihedron Tome, Greed runewell amulet
> 
> Implements: ledger of secrets, Ginoba Rasivrein's boots of speed, Panaxoto's ribbon necklace, Elander's wooden unholy symbol of Zon-Kuthon, Karzoug's skull, Drin Dealer’s top hat (3 crimson spheres, 3 onyx rhomboids)
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	36. The Windbacks Walk in Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Caxi has a moment

The Windbacks plotted the course that night, to depart first thing in the morning. The first leg of the journey was an 8 hour trek through the Shadow Plane from Korvosa to something called the Fen of the Icemists at the base of Mhar Massif. Before they went, Caxi offered to implant mesmerist tricks--Fleet in Shadows, Astounding Avoidance, and Spatial Switch.

They’d all need Fleet in Shadows to make time, but the others were optional. Eletho, Gouqi, and Laconte agreed. Only Tycane withheld. Surprisingly, he trusted Kuthite more than the elf, but not by much.

Yes, the stranger offered a couple significant defenses, but Tycane knew all about the Shadow Plane. It was a dark reflection of the Material Plane, also known as the Netherworld or the Plane of Death. For good reason.

At the core of the Plane of Shadow was the Negative Energy Plane. Its limitless, unholy power caused the creation of many of the undead that existed there.

Connected to the Material Plane through the Ethereal Plane, much of the Shadow Plane had similar but distorted features. Where on the Material a city might exist, on the Plane of Shadow there would be ruins or some twisted representation of that city's populous. 

Most relevantly, Distances didn’t correlate between the planes. Those who took a jaunt through the Shadow Plane could well find themself transported leagues away after returning to the Material.

Moreover, the plane had been irreparably tainted by Zon-Kuthon's imprisonment and later home realm in Xovaikain. Portions of the plane showed the Midnight Lord’s influence more strongly than others, but no one could predict which. He owned the allegiance of many native kayal, undead, and shadow giants, but most notoriously, velstracs.

Velstracs were cruel, amoral fiends obsessed with sadomasochism and self-perfection. They lived on the fear and pain of mortals, which they inflicted with both supernatural dread and physical torture. But, like Zon-Kuthon, they were not originally from the Shadow Plane.

The first velstracs coalesced from the selfish and depraved thoughts of the earliest mortals. They were so hideous that the gods themselves chained them in the pit of Hell. The velstracs escaped their prison, however, for the Shadow Plane.

The majority made their home there, but some have returned to Hell. Owing to their association with the Midnight Lord, Kuthites regarded velstracs as sacred to their religion--many believed this act later inspired and helped maintain the truce between Kuthite Nidal and diabolist Cheliax.

Tycane’s eyes narrowed to vivid green slits as he and Hat, peering out from his robes, bored holes into the back of that tophat and dark coat. Ignoring the marching order for now, he passed Eletho to join Caxi at the front.

“I know you’re Nidalese.”

“Most Kuthites are.”

So he didn’t deny it. Then again, why would he--wearing not one but two unholy symbols of the evil god on the front of his coat. “If you’re leading us into a trap, I promise you, you won’t live long enough to regret it.”

“Hold onto that spirit. It’ll keep you alive when we get to Xin-Shalast.”

“Don’t patronize me, occultist. I know you have an outsider contact.”

“What?” he said it as though it were truly news to him.

“You can’t fool me. I don’t remember everything from my past life, but I had a good look at the occultist class before I was Reborn. That’s one of your abilities--an outsider you can contact.” And since Caxi was a Nidalese Kuthite, that more than likely meant her contact was here, in this Netherworld limbo of shadows.

But before she could respond, the bank of shadows before them parted like a veil. Around a giant-sized, hovering iron maiden heaving forth a monstrously pregnant mass of tortured limbs and raw tentacles.

“Velstrac!” yelled Tycane, scrambling back as he threw up a spell of mage armor.

Then froze. As he, Eletho, and Gouqi witnessed the most terrifying thing they’d ever seen in their silver lives.

The Kuthite, vanished into invisibility, reappeared in a flurry of black-clawed strikes. Her elongated fingernails, strong as adamantine, raked chunks from the iron maiden’s metal as easily as it did from the mass of limbs and flesh. And sundered the gigantic velstrac top from bottom.

“Ho. Ly. Spheres,” said Gouqi. She only gaped at the Kuthite. As did the rest of the Windbacks.

“Did you see that? Did everyone just see that?” asked Laconte, turning from one peer to the other. “Just trying to make sure I didn’t suffer some kind of shadow hallucination over here.”

Eletho let out her low whistle. “Oh, it happened. And it was bad--s as f--k.” 

She walked right up to the gore-splattered occultist and gave her a hearty slap on the back. “D--n, Caxi!”

Gouqi, literally flying over, pulled both their shoulders into a hug. “Whoohoo! The Windbacks are killing it!”

“Did you level up?” was all the Kuthite had to say to that.

“No,” said Tycane, keeping his distance. “You’re Reborn, so our XP’s doing a four-way split.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Caxi.

“I agree,” said Laconte, also keeping away from the gore-splattered trio.

“Maybe it rolls over for our gold Rebirth,” shrugged the good cleric.

“Still not making sense,” said the elf with his willfully unhelpful smile.

“Who cares?” said their leader. “We’ve got years until we have to reincarnate. By then, we’ll know the answer or have forgotten the question. Caxi, you get scratched at all?”

“I’m fine, but we shouldn’t let all this go to waste.” They thumbed over their shoulder at the velstrac.

The four Windbacks looked from them to the monster to each other and back to Caxi.

“You’re, uh, you’re not talking about food, are you?” asked Gouqi. “‘Cause I’ve, uh, got a spell to handle that, and Tycane’s prestidigitation will give it any flavor you want. Including, uh, monster, if you’re into that.”

“No. Of course not. I meant necromancy.”

The good cleric snapped out of Gouqi in a hot second. “Absolutely not!”

Eating a monster, that was understandable for someone in dire straits. Necromancy--corrupting a soul that should rightfully be shepherded by Pharasma, Mother of Souls, to its final rest and reward--was an act of evil. Totally out of the question.

“I know this is the Shadow Plane, but this ain’t Nidal,” said Eletho. “Necromancy isn’t acceptable out here in the wider world, and there’s no way we’ll stand for it.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” said Laconte.

“We won’t. Stand. For it,” repeated the leader. Her tone made it unequivocally clear that she wouldn’t be repeating it again.

“No monster eating. No necromancy. Got it,” said Caxi, raising his empty, but nonetheless monstrously deadly hands. He turned on his heel and stepped back on the path--wicking off the filth with a psychic spell.

“I knew he was evil,” Tycane muttered under his breath. Not that anyone could’ve had their doubts about the open Kuthite. Why had they even--

Hat the Cat’s eyes flicked from his to the termagant. The monumentally powerful velstrac that added its mangled victims to that mass of flesh it called body and family. Right. Right.

Well, once he and the other Windbacks reached the Kuthite’s level of power, they wouldn’t need Caxi’s help with high-level dungeons anymore. They could go their separate ways and peace would be restored.

Then his incriminating eyes found that elf brushing velstrac-splatter from Gouqi’s leather sleeve. Peace almost restored. Why couldn’t things go back to the way they were? 

Before Eletho and Gouqi had left for Magnimar. Before--before. There was peace. He’d finally found peace. And now it was totally, irrevocably shattered. It just--it wasn’t fair.

Hat meowed sympathetically.

“You get it,” muttered Tycane. 

He brushed the thoughts aside for now and picked up the pace just enough so he wouldn’t have to march behind his friend and the garishly flirting elf. THAT was worse than a bit of necromancy. After all, who could say if monsters even HAD souls?

Caxi spent the next few hours in ponderous silence. She'd known. She'd known her alignment had shifted to evil since the moment she'd started serial killing for level ups. But to hear it aloud, from another person--it was like seeing her Reborn face in the mirror for the first time. A startling distortion of the person she thought she was.

Maybe all of Astrag’s crash-course teaching had gotten deeper beneath her skin than she’d thought. Put on the spot about monster-eating, necromancy had seemed the natural cover-up. And it would’ve been--in Nidal.

Out here in the wider world, everything she’d done to survive, everything she’d learned to be in Nidal made her a bad person. Evil. The realization was so jarring it made Caxi sick to her bones.

“Hey, you ok, Caxi?” 

That wasn’t Gouqi’s voice. Gouqi was still righteously pissed about the open suggestion of necromancy to her good-cleric face. It wasn’t Eletho--she was totally focused on looking out for more Shadow Plane threats. It wasn’t Tycane, who straight up resented her.

Laconte, hands cradling the back of his head, had fallen into an easy, strolling step beside her. Though he kept his face ahead, the corner of his eye met hers. Like all elves, his eyes were a solid color, black, but they somehow seemed to grow lighter toward the center.

“If you MUST know, I’m having a mild existential crisis,” they said, half-jokingly for themself, half-seriously to turn the elf off and away. They were in no mood to be toyed with.

But Laconte didn’t go. They just walked a little softer beside them, soundlessly.

Caxi finally had to ask, “Are you the apology broker? Did Gouqi send you? Or was it Eletho?”

“Honestly? I came over here because our wayfinder through the Shadow Plane was lookin’ kinda lost,” they answered without making fun.

“Only internally,” the fake Kuthite, fake human, and fake silver, snorted. “Relax, I’ll get everyone there in one piece.”

“Oh, I have no doubt of that. I was there for the velstrac-slaying. Very nice, by the way. Also, hot, if you’re accepting total honesty at this time.”

A chuckle bubbled out. “Total honesty, huh? How does that work with you being a rogue?”

Laconte turned their head to flash them with the full, radiant majesty of their grin. “I’m totally, one hundred percent honest right up until the point I disappear to honor my honest virtue of self-preservation.”

“An honest coward,” Caxi half-smiled.

“What coward isn’t honest? It’s all those heroes and their bravery that’s all lies. They’re either scared and lying to themselves or they just don’t know enough yet.”

“Which one am I?” they asked, fully smiling now.

“Lying, obviously.”

“Ding ding ding,” he laughed. “Yeah, to be honest, I can’t help it. I’m a GREAT liar.”

“Well, if it’s gotten you this far,” Laconte shrugged.

But that was just it. Caxi had gotten this far on a heaped-together mountain of lies just waiting to collapse under his feet. “Kind of. I don’t really know who I am any more.”

"That's the hardest thing about being," said Laconte, his voice hushed so only Caxi could hear him. "There are no rules."

"There are other people."

"If I let other people determine the person I 'should' be, I'd be f--ing miserable every day of my life."

"So what do you do?"

"Embrace the chaos. I am who I am, and I thoroughly enjoy watching the world react to my particular brand of ridiculousness. You're doing it right now," the much taller elf leaned down to whisper right into his ear, "and it's electric."

Caxi's skin prickled. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as they did in the presence of greatest and most terrible magic. Embrace it, huh?

He turned nose-to-nose with the elf to look him dead-on in seriousness. "Come find me tonight. It's going to be cold--I hate the cold."

But mostly, he just didn't want to be alone. This wasn't about to add some new layer of confusion to his life. Not with honest, cowardly Laconte. He could never love a person like that.

This was purely physical. It was the truth Caxi told himself as the elf pulled back with a devious smile and continued on in step with him, a strange new heat in the shadowed space between them.


	37. The Windbacks Get a Tad More Chaotic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are laid
> 
> Tycane's character sheet is given below (before rest)

Before the Windbacks left the Shadow Plane, Caxi came down from his high horse to ask the good cleric Gouqi to cast communal endure elements on everyone. She obliged, of course. They were still in this together--whether driven by pathfinder duty to annul the threat of an (overrun) dungeon, personal sense of responsibility, the prospect of loot--any number of reasons, really.

The five held hands, the Kuthite between his new friend Laconte and the still untrusting Tycane. He shifted the circle of grudging allies out of the dim and dusky limbo of the Shadow Plane and into glittering clouds of ice crystals.

Frozen swampland crunched underfoot. Here, surrounded by the jagged walls of the Kodar Mountains, the glacial air was thin. The night sky above was a deeper, richer black--the diamond-like stars so close that they seemed to glitter just out of arm’s reach.

This rime-encrusted marsh was the Fen of the Icemists. Once the crystal-clear headwaters of the sacred River Avah, this lake was clogged with silt by several volcanic eruptions at the time of Thassilon’s fall, creating the treacherous high-altitude fen. 

The waters of the Icemists were in a constant state of freezing and thawing. The combination of high altitude and latent volcanism created a mist-shrouded frozen region of water and swaths of icy mud. No plants were here save the ever-present stalks of strange pale fungi and clots of floating lichens that covered and hid deep tarns of freezing water.

Thanks to Gouqi’s spell, none of the city-springtime-attired Windbacks shivered in the slightest as they picked their way over protruding rocks to a hummock of solid ground on which to make camp. Caxi helped Laconte set up his tent. His fingers fumbled, shot through with the adrenaline of making his intentions so clear to the rest of the party. But the others were mature enough that they barely batted an eye--though perhaps because the two members involved were those they were already more than happy to turn a cold shoulder toward. 

Eletho and Gouqi set up a tent together without any romantic overtones. Tycane set his tent up alone, Hat the Cat “helping” about as much as any two-legged overseer. The leader and her second finished first--Eletho moving on to make a campfire and Gouqi casting her spell of create food and water.

Caxi simply followed the elf’s lead as the Windbacks gathered on logs around the fire. No one reached for the food until Tycane used his prestidigitation to flavor the hearty morsels. Even though a third of the party was ignoring Caxi, she couldn’t help but feel a warmth simply from being a part of the team.

It was like a glimpse into the road not taken. What her life could have been like if she and Anatu had never left Tallgrasses. She could see his face in the flickering of the fire. Smiling. Elven?

On the opposite side of the fire, a gentle whirlwind of snow coalesced into the form of an elven woman with long, dark blue hair. Only her ears and limbs were longer, thinner, and more pointed. No, this was no elf but an icy nymph.

“Hi,” said Caxi in Sylvan.

The others turned at once toward the object of her address. Not simply startled, but those three ready to attack--the humans here really didn’t trust her. And it was starting to get on her nerves.

"Why, hello there, wee pups. What brings you to my lovely fen?”

"We mean you and your fen no harm," said Gouqi, jumping in with the truespeech. "We're the Windbacks, and we humbly ask your permission to spend the night here. We'll be gone first thing in the morning."

"Where are you going all the way out here in the middle of mountain nowhere?"

The cleric looked to Tycane. The wizard with alignment sight gave a slight nod. The archdruid, like Laconte, was chaotic neutral. She didn't mean them any harm, so long as they abided by her inscrutable, chaotic fey principles.

"There's an army of monsters amassing in the mountains. One mountain, actually. Mhar Massif."

The icy nymph's solid, frostbite-blue eyes widened. "You know where to find them? They send scouts and excavators down here all the time--a terrible racket, blasting boulders into smithereens. I've tried following them up, give 'em a piece of my mind, but they just disappear every time!"

"Our occultist, Caxi here, does. Actually," said Gouqi, finally turning to address the Kuthite, "we'd all like to know how exactly you plan to find this army."

Caxi didn't bat an eye at the accusatory tone. Though it did set their adrenaline surging and tensing all over again. They reached into their inventory and pulled out the robes of Xin-Shalast.

The archdruid gasped. "Where did you get those? The awful, magic man who was wearing them is going to be so pissed! Actually, I'm quite positive he'll kill you."

"He tried. He won't be trying again. The wearer of the robes is immune to the occluding field around Xin-Shalast. I'll be able to shadow walk all of us up the mountain." Caxi jerked their chin at the icy nymph. "You, too, if you'd like to give them that talking to while they're still alive."

"Caxi, you can't just invite people into the party," said Gouqi.

"You did what?!" railed Tycane. "We don't even know this--nice lady!"

"I didn't ask her to join the Windbacks. She just might have business with the monsters up the mountain. She deserves a chance to--"

Eletho cut Caxi off with a raised palm. "You want this non-pathfinder to walk into a war zone with us? She'll be the first casualty."

"Ex-cuse me? I'm Seven Kae, Archdruid of the Icemists." Seven Kae put her hands on her hips. "I can handle myself, and YES, if you don't take me up there to teach that monster army a lesson, you can forget about spending the night in MY fen."

"That sounded like an ultimatum," said Laconte. "Anyone else getting serious ultimatum vibes?"

"The ult-iest," said Caxi, managing not to crack a mischievous smile.

"O-K," Gouqi sighed. "Everyone, this is Seven Kae, and she's coming with us, apparently."

The icy nymph hopped down to a seat beside the wizard and his cat with a smile and wave. To Tycane's chagrin, Hat jumped into her arms, purring for pets. Seven Kae merrily obliged while the Windbacks made their introductions.

“So what’s the plan?” asked Eletho, tossing a hearty, fresh-bread flavored morsel to the icy nymph--she caught it in her mouth.

“Let me do a little occultist recon,” said Caxi. They took off their bogeyman coat and laid it folded on their lap. Then donned the runelord’s robes.

They were instantly struck by a vision so strong, so real that it felt like they’d taken a brick to the back of the head.

Xin-Shalast. Fabled city at the edge of reality. A stepping stone between this world and that which was Beyond. Doorway to the Plateau of Leng. Cradled against the slopes of Mhar Massif, beneath the carved visage of Karzoug the Claimer, Xin-Shalast was called the cradle of life. The ancients claimed it was built by the First Race, and its streets built of gold, its towers of rubies and diamonds. 

Once the crown jewel of Shalast, and arguably the greatest of all Thassilon’s capitals, Xin-Shalast had remained hidden from prying eyes for ages. It remained preserved against the steady march of decay by its proximity to other worlds, where the very rules of existence were twisted and wrong. Today, high in its mystical mountain valley, when the wind cut just right between the jagged peaks, listeners could still hear the otherworldly voice of the Ancients piping, “Tekeli-li, Tekeli-li--”

The city was comprised of two distinct entities. The Lower City occupied a long valley at the foot of the great Mhar Massif.  
Xin-Shalast Proper, also known as the Spires of Xin-Shalast, sat high upon the mountain’s southern slope. That was the personal palace and fortified citadel of the ill-fated Runelords of Greed. From his perch, the last runelord could survey his city in the valley below.

In its heyday, the Lower City was a booming metropolis unnaturally sustained in one of the most forbidding environments of Golarion, high in the Kodar Range, by the will and magical might of the Runelord of Greed. The citizens believed that the runelord’s magic was all that kept the three ever-simmering volcanoes of the nearby peaks quiescent, though even in the years after Thassilon’s fall, only one major had eruption occurred.

At the top of the city’s hierarchy were the lamiakin, Karzoug’s favored servants, valued for their ability to erode the will of dissenters and magically compel their victims. As with the other six runelords, giants of all types answered the Runelord of Greed’s call. They served as shock troops and had enforced his will across the length and breadth of Shalast. 

The giantkind were controlled by a small but extremely formidable tribe of rune giants. They were the runelords’ unnatural creations whose sole purpose was to command the lesser giant races in the runelord’s service. 

Below these groups came the provider caste, performing the roles of artisans, entertainers, and merchants to keep the economy and infrastructure of the empire alive. At the bottom rung was the slave caste, almost always humanoids from neighboring nations (particularly from Bakrakhan to the west), segregated into the walled and worst district of slums when not going about their daily labors. They rarely survived past middle age.

Apart from these regulars within the city were the many dragons who owed allegiance to Karzoug. The dragons answered to none but Karzoug and the lamia general, as well as the occasional rune giant assigned to oversee a flight of young dragons.

Today, very few humanoids remained in Xin-Shalast. The bulk of the city was uninhabited save for the monsters that proliferated throughout the dungeon of ruins. And their humanoid slaves.

After Earthfall and the volcanic eruption that destroyed nearly a quarter of the city, many of Xin-Shalast’s slaves  
found themselves freed yet trapped within the city-dungeon. Forced to live in the newly created caves of the Slave District, over the course of hundreds of generations, they evolved into a race of chameleon-like humanoids called “skulks.”

Though the skulks appeared doughy and blubbery (an evolutionary result of life in their cold, harsh environment), they were quick on their feet and agile. They could change the color of their skin with ease to match the environment around them. But nothing had helped them to escape their cruel, monster taskmasters.

The occultist opened his eyes. Only the span of a deep, frosty breath had passed during his vision as the robes upon Karzoug. “The slaves--we need to free the slaves first. They’re in the caves of the Slave District. Which is guarded by a vampire aberration. It’s in charge of an army of yeti guards and allied with a powerful ice devil and a blue dragon.

“I can handle the vampire. But the ice devil and blue dragon are gonna raise Hell while I’m doing it.”

“An ice devil, huh?” said Seven Kae. “I wonder how they’d match up to an arctic druid. You leave them to me.”

“So you want us to handle an army of yetis AND a dragon?” asked Tycane, incredulously.

“No. Just distract the dragon and try not to die until I’ve handled the aberration,” said Caxi.

“I’m great at not dying,” said Laconte.

“Yeah, we know,” snorted Eletho. “I’ll keep the yetis off you. You three distract the dragon. And don’t. Die.”

“You got it, boss,” said the elf with a jaunty salute.

“Well, if you think we can do it--then I have faith in us too,” Gouqi affirmed.

The wizard dropped his head into his hands but didn’t argue. It was a moot point. After all, the Windbacks were the ones who’d practically forced Caxi into dragging them to this high-level dungeon.

He raised his head as a thought occurred to him. “What happens after we free the slaves?”

“If they have their own way out, they can take it. If not, they’re gonna have to shelter with us in the caves,” said Caxi. “Our activity isn’t gonna go unnoticed. It’s going to draw the entire army to us. But by then, you’ll hopefully have levelled up.

“I can plane shift the six of us to the Shadow Plane to rest if we have the opportunity--”

Tycane sprang to his feet. “Are you insane?!”

“We’d be leaving all the slaves we rescued to fend for themselves!” shouted Gouqi, also on her feet.

“So, what, you’d rather we go in, spells blazing, and draw the entire army to us right off the bat?” asked the Kuthite. “That vampire aberration, by the way, can mind-control those slaves into coming after us.”

“We don’t know it would do that!” said Gouqi.

“Then our best option is Caxi’s plan without the rest,” said Eletho. “We free the slaves, let ‘em hide, and then get out there to keep the army off them.”

“That--even if we level up--I won’t have any high level spells,” said Tycane.

“You, I can help,” said Caxi. She pulled her headband of intellect and Karzoug’s spellbook from her inventory. If she had to gamble with the lives of the innocents, she might as well go all in.

“What--what’s that?” asked the wizard, his voice hushed in partial recognition and a well-educated guess. There was no mistaking the emblem of the Sihedron upon the spellbook, and the Kuthite had effectively admitted to killing the archmage runelord of Greed.

The occultist walked around the campfire and pushed the artifacts into his hands. “If you’re cornered, destroy the tome.”

“Are you F--”

“I’m not trusting you with this lightly. I’m doing it because--let’s be real--you’ll die without it, full-caster. Maybe we all will, without you.”

Tycane grunted at the brunt force of the truth. But he couldn’t deny it. The camp was dead silent--neither could they.

“Unless there are any other objections,” said Eletho, dusting off her pants as she rose to her feet, “we all need to get some rest.”

Gouqi nodded, rising silently to their feet as well. Caxi and Laconte shared a glance--not conspiratory but cursory. Eletho pointed a finger at the pair.

“Don’t stay up too late.” That was all their just leader had to say about that.

“So what, you all get tents and I have to sleep on the snow?” said Seven Kae, hands on her hips once more.

“But--isn’t that what you always do?” asked Gouqi, their head swivelling around to check for the archdruid’s nonexistent house.

“Ha! Yeah, I guess so,” said the icy nymph, sticking out a dark blue tongue.

The occultist and the elf let out a laugh, followed by Eletho’s, and a second later, Gouqi’s. They were a team. They were about to face deadly peril. But they had a plan.

It felt good. But as Caxi followed Laconte into their tent, they could still recognize that it hadn’t put them in the mood for sex. They sat down on their sleeping roll, the elf laying down on their elbow beside them.

“Caxi, hey, you okay?” asked Laconte, gently.

The occultist hugged their knees to their chest, dropping their head on their knees. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that’s what they all say--at the start?”

“No,” they snorted. Then half-smiled. “A little. Could I--would it be okay if I just--just held you?”

“Yeah,” said Laconte. They laughed, “Sounds warm.”

The high altitude wind howled outside the tent. The elf rolled onto their other side. The smaller Caxi laid down and scooted up behind them. They wrapped an arm under Laconte’s, resting their forehead against their back.

It was very warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tycane, universalist chronomancer wizard 8]  
> N medium Korvosan, familiar Hat the Cat  
> Rank: silver, 0 RP  
> Initiative: 4+11  
> Senses: darkvision 60ft, see alignment
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 32 (+11 natural)  
> HP: 120  
> Fortitude: 2+9  
> Reflex: 2+11  
> Will: 6+7  
> Immune: cold, fire, mind-affecting  
> DR: 10/cold iron and magic  
> SR: 26
> 
> [Offense]  
> Speed: 30ft, fly 20ft  
> Melee: 4+9 bite (2d10+9/19-20 plus mind block)  
> Secondary: 4+9 2 claws (2d6)  
> Ranged: 4+15 +1 staff of swarming insects (1d6/1d6+1+9)  
> Special attacks: dream theft, hand of the apprentice
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: read magic, ghost sound, prestidigitation, arcane mark  
> 1st-level: mage armor, grease, enlarge person, comprehend languages  
> 2nd-level: web, flaming sphere, hypnotic pattern, invisibility  
> 3rd-level: dispel magic, fireball, sheet lightning  
> 4th-level: black tentacles, wall of fire
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 29  
> Dexterity: 32  
> Constitution: 28  
> Intelligence: 40  
> Wisdom: 24  
> Charisma: 27
> 
> Reborn feats: Improved Critical (bite)
> 
> Feats: Improved Initiative, Scribe Scroll, Quicken Spell, Fast Study, Silent Spell, Metamagic Mastery
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Azlanti, Celestial, Common, Draconic, Infernal, Shoanti, Thassilonian, Tien, Varisian
> 
> Reborn abilities: Change Shape (any humanoid or cat), Witch’s Familiar (Hat the Cat), Dimensional Augmentation, Commune with Familiar, Dimensional Waypoints, Slumber, Nightmares, Restless Slumber, Speak in Dreams, Eternal Slumber
> 
> Class abilities: Temporal Pool, Forewarned, Rewind
> 
> Combat gear: +1 ironwood staff of swarming  
> Other gear: spellbook, adventuring gear, Sihedron Tome, Caxi’s +6 headband of intellect


	38. The Windbacks Kick Down the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caxi's combat stats updated

Caxi woke well-rested and alone. He didn’t know why he was surprised. Elves needed only four hours of meditative rest rather than sleep to be up and functioning.

He donned Karzoug’s robes, which shrank to fit him, and pulled his bogeyman coat over them--he just didn’t feel comfortable without it. Then sat cross-legged on his bed roll. It was actually better that Laconte wasn’t here. He needed an hour to invest mental focus into his occult implements.

He needed Karzoug’s skull, his necromancy implement, to deal with the dread vampire decapus sorcerer who terrorized the skulks. Storing enough focus in his ledger of secrets would give him blindsight--extremely useful against foes with ample access to greater invisibility.

Which also left him with only enough focus to invest in a single implement. He had to go with Ginoba Rasivrein’s boots of speed. His first serially-killed victim had provided his transmutation implement, and a +8 bonus to his strength.

He left the tent at the same time that Gouqi left hers. He nodded at her from across the camp. She nodded back with a small, cautious smile. It was a good sign--if they made it to the end of the day.

Eletho and Tycane were already sitting by the fire, silent and brooding respectively. The wizard was wearing the headband and had the Sihedron Tome in hand. Good. Though it was only a matter of time until he discovered the Cyphergate ritual--which, despite the current trust among the party, felt like Caxi had set off a ticking time bomb.

Speaking of death traps, the rogue wasn’t in sight. Until he was. Strolling in arm-in-arm with Seven Kae. 

Oof. The technically-17-year-old wasn’t mature enough to see that without taking a blow to the head and the gut. His face burned and his insides stung as though they’d been beaten clean like a dusty rug.

Laconte met her eyes--if not innocently, then at least without malice. He hadn’t acted out of any desire to hurt Caxi. Truth be told, they weren’t of any relation to the other. This was simply his nature.

Now she knew it. Now it was time to move on. She forced herself forward with an awkward, throat-clearing cough. “Can I offer some emergency mesmerist tricks before we head out?”

“Oh! I’d better renew our endure elements,” said Gouqi, finishing up their create food and water spell for the morning.

While Tycane flavored the hearty morsels as fruit(?!) and the water as warming milk, the occultist implanted her tricks into all five of her allies: Fleet in Shadows, Astounding Avoidance, Spatial Switch, but also Chain of Eyes and Umbral Transformation.

“Don’t use the last one unless you absolutely have to,” she warned. “You’ll become a shadow for six seconds, but you’ll be staggered six seconds afterward.”

“Why would we even need to become a shadow anyway?” Tycane muttered under his breath. Unfortunately, the wind died at the precise moment so that everyone heard his grumbling.

“I could think of a few reasons,” said Laconte, meeting Caxi’s eye.

She turned away, flushing even more furiously. She couldn’t deal with this right now. It was literally nothing but the most unnecessary distraction before a full-scale, life-or-death war with hundreds of innocent lives on the line. But neither could she force her body to catch up to her brain.

“I’m ready when you’re ready,” was all they could spout, holding out both hands.

Eletho took one. Gouqi, mercifully, took the other. And flashed them a sympathetic smile to boot.

Though they were technically scaling the Kodar’s highest mountain past the 15,000-foot mark, angular, floating staircases existed in the Shadow Plane in place of solid mountain. Which rendered this trek far, far shorter than the jaunt across the Cinderlands. It wasn’t even midmorning when Caxi stepped them out from shadow and into the unseeing gaze of Karzoug the Claimer’s stone-carved visage.

In the valley before them was a desolate ruin of cyclopean proportions. Though a mere shadow of its original glory, the Lower City was still mind-boggling in scope and grandeur. The tableau defied belief. 

A narrow mountain pass opened into a glacial valley extending to the base of the vast mountain. The near end was occupied by a huge fortress of smooth black stone, multiple towers rising from its soaring walls. Exiting the bailey of the fortress was a massive causeway of gold that dominated the city as it traveled down the center of the vale. 

Enormous towers and spires of many-colored stone packed both sides of the central thoroughfare, their height giving the illusion that the road itself was a valley. The eastern slope of the valley has been partially subsumed by an ancient glacial flow that buried a quarter of the city. That section was little more than a great mass of ice, jagged angles and peaks of ruined structures poking through its topmost layer. 

Where the valley curves slightly to the west, the structures grew even larger, becoming truly gigantic as they climbed up and over their rocky spur. At the far end of the valley, the city abutted the lower slope of Mhar Massif. Yet the architects had taken no heed of the change in slope. The golden causeway merely elevated at a steep angle and continued to climb the increasing slope in a nearly straight line, transforming into a colossal stairway. 

Buildings clung precariously to the mountain face alongside   
the causeway, growing ever larger and ornate as they ascended. The gigantic buildings finally gave way a few thousand feet above, but the mighty road continued to wend its treacherous way just below the mountain’s carved peak. 

There, the spired citadel of Xin-Shalast loomed, demented in size and proportion. Its topmost spires ended just below the face of a youthful but cold and stern man surveying the city below. 

The otherworldly quality of this mind-boggling panorama was only reinforced by the cold winds slicing across the high peaks, making strange cries and shrieks in the ether.

Despite the army encampments, the city was vastly depopulated--a ghostly shell of its former self. Its present dangers roamed its ancient, echoing streets and ruined passages. The massive, multi-layered structures were mostly covered in hoarfrost, freeze-dried to a silvery finish and preternatural hardness.

Caxi, who’d had a mental eternity to take it all in during his vision, gave the Windbacks a good twenty minutes to gape their fill. It wasn’t enough, but they had to get moving. He cleared his throat pointedly. And VERY loudly to be heard over the winds.

“The skulk slaves--remember them?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we gotta go,” said Eletho, shaking her head to help pry herself from the ledge. She gave each one of the Windbacks a tug on the back of their clothes (or furs, in Seven Kae’s case) to get them moving, too.

They followed Caxi in stealth through the labyrinthine passages to around enemies and encampments toward the Slave District. Buried under the glacier, the majority of its buildings were hidden completely from view. 

Many had been destroyed when the nearby volcano exploded. Those that survived had their interior’s opened and joined to a tangled network of ice tunnels and caves. For thousands of years, these tunnels were the primary home of the skulks.

When Karzoug awoke and his armies mobilized, they became a prison. Those who weren’t toiling on the day shift were trapped here by vampire aberration and its tribe of yeti minions. Caxi stopped the Windbacks just before the undead sorcerer’s ‘office’ tunnel.

“The skulks are being held just down there with some of the yetis. Get ready for a fight but wait for my signal,” said the occultist. “The vampire’s mentally linked to the yetis--when they start acting up, put them down and free the slaves. More yetis will be on the way, with the ice devil and dragon.”

“We got it,” said Eletho. She clapped a hand on the Kuthite’s shoulder and flashed her a brilliant, feral grin. “Don’t go Rebirthing without us.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Caxi grinned back. With that, she departed down the huge tunnel of ice into the frozen bowels of the glacier. As soon as she was out of sight, she shifted into her true bogeyman form.

The tunnel opened into a large chamber, a cyst in the earth under the weight of the buried city formed by some ancient basement gallery. Pillars along the office’s perimeter rose to a vaulted ceiling. At its center sat a dais holding an ornate throne. Seated upon the throne was a skeletal figure shrouded in musty robes bearing arcane symbols.

The monster’s office was warded by a silent, mental alarm spell, but Caxi needed to draw its attention to get some service around here. So the fey walked right in, noting the four vampire yetis hiding in the shadows.

The desiccated skeleton immediately sat a little straighter--an illusion by the sorcerer. It addressed the bogeyman in Abyssal, “Aren’t you a funny looking one? Well, if you can defeat my thralls, I promise to let you take their place no matter what you look like.”

The invisible aberration willed its vampires to attack. The tophatted fey launched into a spring attack, clawing once at each of the undead yeti fighters. They fell to the single blow.

The bogeyman grinned. “My turn.”

[Meanwhile, in the frozen amphitheatre-like chamber before the slave quarters]

Eletho roared and swung her keen, silver scythe, cleaving through two yetis at once. Gouqi, singing her song of inspiring courage, threw her cold iron, returning starknife at the 400-year-old blue dragon breathing a line of thunderous electricity at Tycane.

The wizard dodged his certain death with Astounding Avoidance, but now that he’d triggered the trick, he couldn’t use it again. Gods-d--ned Laconte was nowhere to be found, and Seven Kae was giving her all to go toe-to-toe with the 12ft-tall insectile monstrosity that proved to be the elite, advanced ice devil.

But the starknife did its job, turning the enormous blue dragon’s head toward Gouqi. And dragons were immune to magical sleep, which made up Tycane’s most powerful Reborn abilities.

“F--k!” he spat.

Before the dragon had even opened its mouth, out from a tunnel came flying a giant, octopoid creature with ten tentacles protruding from its body and surrounding a maw of huge, yellow fangs. The advanced, dread vampire decapus threw itself at the dragon--blood red eyes blazing, slamming and constricting with all ten tentacles.

The dragon roared electricity and immediately tore at its former ally, the much more deadly threat. Caxi burst out of a cloud of mist to tear into the back of the dragon’s neck.

Across the frozen chamber, a certain elven rogue took advantage of the chaotic turn of the tide to reappear behind the ice devil and stab his rapier into its chitinous back. Seven Kae laughed triumphantly and sent its head flying off the frigid blade of her icy scimitar.

“Take that, you frozen locust!” she crowed.

Bodies dropped all around the glacial cavern--none of them Windbacks. The six staggered toward each other in the stillness for a weak but exhilarated group hug.

“Please tell me you levelled up,” said Caxi.

“We levelled up!” said Gouqi, giving him a friendly punch in the shoulder.

“I need 15 minutes to get my spells ready,” said Tycane, pulling away from the hug with a loud meow from his traveling robes.

“The army’s on their way,” said the occultist, the second to break away. “I’ll set a watch. If you’re hurt, eat now.”

“Raw?” said Laconte.

“Caxi, we’re not eating monsters,” said Eletho.

“I have wands for that,” said the cleric, pulling one out as though for emphasis. They pointed at the floating decapus just chilling over the dragon that Eletho had finally felled. “You’re not planning on keeping that vampire around, are you?”

Gouqi had a point, actually. Any monster killed by Caxi’s mindless thrall would rise as a dread vampire in 24 hours--it wasn’t something she could keep around the skulks.

“I’ll...go put it out of its misery.” She made it quick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dier Cleaner "Caxi," bogeyman secret broker occultist 20]  
> NE medium fey  
> Rank: gold, 1 RPs  
> Initiative: +23  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent  
> Aura: deepest fear (30ft)
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 51, shadow blending (robes of Xin-Shalast +6)  
> HP: 440, terrible rejuvenation 5  
> Fortitude: +28  
> Reflex: +25  
> Will: +38  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 15/cold iron  
> SR: 30, resist cold 5, electricity 5
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: 2 shifter’s fury claws +34/25/20/15/10/5 (4d6+28, 19-20/x3) (furious focus power attack)  
> Secondary: bite, hoof  
> Special attacks: painful gaze +10+(6d6), sneak attack +6d6, striking fear
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: detect thoughts, tongues  
> At-will: darkness, gaseous form, ghost sound, invisibility, suggestion  
> 3/day: crushing despair, hold person, quickened phantasmal killer  
> 1/day: disguise self, nightmare, shadow walk, plane shift
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: read magic, detect magic, message, purify food/drink, daze, mage hand, open/close, resistance, grave words, touch of fatigue  
> 1st-level: mindlink, skim, pass without trace, liberating command, memorize page, alter winds, negate aroma, fastidiousness, alarm, restore corpse, sculpt corpse, illusion of calm, mask dweomer, magic aura  
> 2nd-level: see invisibility, locate object, badger's ferocity, make whole, demand offering, levitate, knock, obscure object, escape alarm, scare, purge spirit, misdirection, shifted steps, phantom trap  
> 3rd-level: pierce disguise, arcane sight, hostile levitation, tailwind, deep slumber, keen edge, mark of buoyancy, cloak of winds, nondetection, flesh puppet, sessile spirit, instinct fake, aura alteration, vision of Hell  
> 4th-level: commune with texts, detect scrying, mindwipe, planar adaptation, majestic image, mirror transplant, treasure stitching, true form, dimensional anchor, flesh puppet horde, fear, greater invisibility, quieting weapons, wandering star motes  
> 5th-level: true seeing, find quarry, greater forbid action, telekinesis, overland flight, control winds, waft, Nex’s secret workshop, greater dispel magic, entrap spirit, unwilling shield, false vision, mislead, persistent image  
> 6th-level: greater scrying, soulseeker, cloak of dreams, transfiguring touch, artificer’s curse, disintegrate, control construct, antimagic field, repulsion, harm, plundered power, permanent image, project image, triggered hallucination
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 46 (+8 Physical Enhancement)  
> Dexterity: 49  
> Constitution: 38  
> Intelligence: 38  
> Wisdom: 31  
> Charisma: 43
> 
> Reborn feats: Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Spell Focus (enchantment, illusion)
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Quicken Spell-Like Ability (Phantasmal Killer), Improved Critical (Claw)
> 
> Feats: Power Attack, Furious Focus, Vital Strike, Death or Glory, Critical Focus, Solid Shadows, Intensify Spell, Quicken Spell, Maximize Spell, Empower Spell
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter Claws, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body, Piercing Gaze, Consummate Liar, Towering Ego, Touch Treatment, Mental Potency, Glib Liar, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes, Astounding Avoidance, Spatial Switch, Umbral Transformation 
> 
> Racial abilities: Deepest Fear, Striking Fear, Terrible Rejuvenation
> 
> Class abilities: Implements, Mental Focus, Sudden Insight, Broker Secrets, Share Memory, Physical Enhancement, Legacy Weapon, Object Reading, Aura Sight, Quickness, Steal Secret, Glorious Presence, Cloud Mind, Telekinesis, Size Alteration, Warding Talisman, Mind Barrier, Globe of Negation, Energy Shield, Purge Secret, Necromantic Focus, Mind Fear, Necromantic Servant, Pain Wave, Distortion, Minor Figment, Shadow Beast, Mirage, Color Beam
> 
> Combat gear: Robes of Xin-Shalast  
> Other gear: loot, talons of Leng, Karzoug’s burning glaive, Greed runewell amulet
> 
> Implements: ledger of secrets, Ginoba Rasivrein's boots of speed, Panaxoto's ribbon necklace, Elander's ironwood unholy symbol of Zon-Kuthon, Karzoug's skull, Drin Dealer’s top hat (3 crimson spheres, 3 onyx rhomboids)
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	39. Any Way the Wind Blows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things must come to an end

The Windbacks decided to make their stand in the tunnels of the glacier. Not only would it force the army to funnel itself to them in more manageable numbers, but the larger the enemy, the more manageable they’d become--rune giants, the most colossal and powerful of the giants, for example, would have to approach single-file. Should Karzoug’s archmage apprentice reduce their size to increase their rate of attack, they would also be effectively reducing the giants’ power.

In addition to the runelord’s apprentice, there were two armies of giants--the cloud and the storm--each commanded by rune giant officers. There was a squadron of the alien denizens of Leng and their champion, an advanced hound of Tindalos. The gaunt, long-limbed predator with gaping, soulless eyes could move through dimensions in ways mere mortals of the Material Plane could not understand.

Holding the rank of general in Karzoug’s place was the runelord’s champion and wielder of the intelligent sword of Greed. In truth, it was the sword that wielded him/her/them--the both of them effectively still possessed by the Claimer’s avaricious will. And so long as the sword’s vessel lived, the cloud and storm giants would continue to be summoned to bolster the army’s forces.

The odds were stacked against them from the start. But with each fallen enemy, the Windbacks grew just a little bit stronger. As the battle raged from daylight into dusk, the PCs waxed while the monsters waned. Eletho, Gouqi, and Tycane became more efficient, more deadly, by the hour--and none so much as the silver wizard.

With Karzoug’s Sihedron Tome at his side, Tycane needed only 15 minutes to cast increasingly powerful and deadly spells at his enemies. None could stand against his might, not even the runelord’s own apprentice. When the enemy mage fell, the tide of battle turned for good in the Windbacks’ favor.

The alien hound was the last to fall. The six blood-and-battle-bonded allies looked around in the tense stillness. No sound broke over the rushing in their ears.

[Overrun dungeon cleared: The Spires of Xin-Shalast]  
[Reward earned: +1 RP]

Eletho threw down her scythe and screamed at the others in sheer exhilaration. They’d won. Gouqi dropped her starknife and ran to hug her leader. Then everyone else. Tycane leaned heavily on his staff, laughing and crying in the relief.

Laconte stepped out of the shadows. He grinned wildly at Caxi, his arms outspread as though coming in for a hug. But something stopped him. He faltered in his approach, smile and arms dropping just slightly.

The icy nymph, undeterred, threw herself into the questioning embrace and planted a loud, frosty kiss on the elf. The occultist smiled wanly at them. Caxi had little time for anything more, yanked by Gouqi into an equally ecstatic embrace.

The Windbacks spent that night in celebration with the high altitude skulks. They ate, drank, danced, and told stories from night into earliest, darkest morn. And were heaped with treasures from the battlefield.

Caxi refused everything she was offered on the grounds that everything here belonged to the skulks. It was the least Xin-Shalast could offer the population it had kept as slaves for hundreds of generations. They deserved every last copper to rebuild or make new lives for themselves elsewhere.

In the end, all they could force her to take was a single, gray-shaded pearl. It was a periapt of Wisdom that perfectly complemented the ribbon necklace around her throat.

In return, they handed over Karzoug’s robes of Xin-Shalast. As well as his talons of Leng, burning glaive, runewell amulet with clearest warnings about their sinister nature. They had no doubt the skulks would find somewhere to hide them here in the vast, occluded city.

Though the skulks showed no signs of stopping their joyous partying anytime soon, the combat-exhausted Windbacks all found their way to a fire that’d simmered down to little more than a smoldering pile of ash in a quiet nook of the ice tunnels.

“What are your plans?” asked the leader. She looked at Caxi, but let the question rise to the open air.

“I suppose I’d better head back to my fen,” said the archdruid. “Though this Xin-Shalast place isn’t bad. I should come up to visit the skulks from time to time.”

“What about you, Caxi?” asked Gouqi. “Have any more high-level dungeons you wanna share with us?”

She gave the occultist a playful nudge in the ribs. Caxi laughed, wearily but genuinely.

“I have to go back to Nidal. Pangolais. I need to get into Zirnakaynin high society, and it’ll be easiest if I can get Umbral Court sanction.” She didn’t care if that made sense to them or not--there was no way she could let the Windbacks tag along with her into a lawful evil society followed by a chaotic evil one. There was really only one thing she needed them to understand. “You’re level 20 now, right?”

“Yes. Why?” asked Tycane.

“Hold onto your RP. I was warned of a calamity coming. Something so terrible that only those who’d been Reborn multiple times could possibly rise to the challenge. It’s apparently the reason this whole Rebirth system was created.”

The group fell silent.

“Are you saying...we should reincarnate as fast as possible?” asked Eletho.

“I--I don’t know. I don’t know what’s best. There’s a lot of maximization we can do before reincarnation--training with items to raise stats, gaining RP, whatever.

“But there’s no telling when the calamity will strike. Even if we reincarnate to a higher rank, we still might get caught at a lower level. I thought I’d have to reincarnate right away but...now that I think about it, I’d rather let any Rebirth happen naturally.”

Especially after seeing how much more capable these silvers were than they’d been as a level 20 silver rank. Maybe that was their true role in this--herald of the calamity--warning those who had better power and ability to do something.

The Windbacks fell back into ponderous, somber silence. This time, it was Laconte who was the first to speak.

“I’ve never been to Zirnakynin, or Pangolais,” said the rogue, their smile small, hopeful. Almost, maybe vulnerable.

“You aren’t Nidalese and you aren’t drow. Plus, you’re nice. You all are. You’d be eaten alive, chewed up, and spat out.” Much to their surprise, everyone’s surprise, it was Tycane who broke the silence this time.

“I can appear Nidalese,” said the wizard.

Gouqi’s jaw dropped. “Tycane. You can’t be serious.”

“I lived in Korvosa all my life. Then we met Caxi. You. And the first place you took us was the gods-d--ned lost city of Xin-Shalast. Where we defeated an army of monsters.” The wizard shook his head. “I’m not ready to go back to--I don’t know--normal adventuring life? I want to see the world. Pangolais, Zirnakaynin--I could never see those by myself.

“Caxi, could Hat and I come with you? Just for now. Just as an observer. I won’t judge--I promise.”

“You want to leave the Windbacks?!” asked Gouqi, struggling to push their weary body to their feet. Their leader, however, pulled them back down to a seat.

“Tycane may be a little brother to us, but he’s old enough to make his own decisions. Besides, Caxi will take good care of him. Won’t you, Caxi?” Eletho levelled a pointed look at him.

It was Caxi’s turn to gape. “I wasn’t offering to take any of you!”

But Tycane had the tome with the time-altering ritual. And he was now powerful and wealthy enough to cast it. Maybe the bogeyman needed to keep him close after all. Just long enough to prevent that gift from becoming a minor calamity all on its own.

He relented with a sigh. And shifted from his Tien form into the kayal-fey of his gold Rebirth. “Then you should know that my name isn’t Caxi. It’s Dier, of Pangolais.”

After a long rest, Tycane teleported everyone back to the Fen of the Icemists to say goodbye to Seven Kae. Then back to Korvosa.

Caxi and the wizard weren’t the only ones saying their farewells to the Windbacks. Laconte had also decided to take his leave. So their last night together at the Dancing Pony was marked by even more bittersweet finality.

It was Eletho and Gouqi, Tycane and Dier, and Laconte against the world. Together. Alone.

Dier and the wizard headed upstairs together to plot Tycane’s cover story. They had all the time in the world--the Umbral Court would be in Convocation until the end of Gozran. Plenty of time to think up a story for Dealer and what the Shades of the Uskwood had found in the wake of that fatal battle as well.

Back to lying it was. Dier had to sigh and shake her head at the thought of it--though not without a knowing smile. The elven rogue may not have been for her, but he’d had her pegged. She was a brave liar. And she was good at it.

Three days before the end of Gozran and the Convocation, Dier and Tycane said their goodbyes to Sablin at the Dancing Pony. Eletho and Gouqi had already returned to Magnimar. Laconte had gone off to wherever the wind was talking him.

Dier shadow walked with the wizard and his cat to the manor grounds of High Mistress Feilan of Shadowmoor. Machete and the rest of Feilan’s Fingers came running out to meet them.

“Dier Cleaner!” said the rusalka, using her fey name before she could stop herself. Her darkest blue eyes immediately took in the stranger at her side and Drin Dealer’s tophat on her head. “Please, come inside. The governor is still at the Umbral Court, but she is most desirous for news of you and Drin Dealer.”

Dier told them “everything” over cups of warm, moonflower milk tea for her and her guest, Tycane of Nisroch--Nidal’s largest and most open city where the Usk River met the Arcadian Ocean. The wizard’s white-blond curls were Nidalese enough, but he’d used alter self to drain his skin to truly shadow-bound pallor and his eyes to gray with only the barest touch of green.

She’d gone into the Uskwood to meditate, as she’d told them less than a fortnight ago. Little did she know she’d been tailed by Dealer. Or that she’d come upon Pangolais’ serial killer’s next target--a foreign wizard and his army of lamias. 

Dier was careful never to mention that the serial killer was a tiger around Tycane. The wizard was far too intelligent not to put together that the fey tiger who’d killed Korvosa’s Queen Leos was the same one who’d been killing members of the Umbral Court. And that Dier had for some reason gone from one city of murder to the other.

“I was no target, but the battle was so fierce both Dealer and I were mortally wounded. They reached me and I shadow walked us as far as I could--all the way to Nisroch Bay, as it were.

“Tycane here found us. Though his means were little, he did his best to provide for us. He’s the only reason I’m alive today.”

“Oh. I see,” said Machete, prying her eyes from Drin Dealer’s hat. “High Mistress Feilan has been informed. She is...grateful to Tycane of Nisroch and will see him justly rewarded.”

“I live only to serve the Dark Prince,” said Tycane. 

Dier mentally rolled their eyes. That seemed to be laying it on thick, but the rusalka took it in stride. Nidal surely did promote fanaticism in the worship of Zon-Kuthon.

“There is something else,” said the Finger, tilting her head as she listened to her boss’ words from her earring. “It seems you spoke to Mistress Meileen the Sun-Dimmer about going to Zirnakaynin. She has, in turn, spoken on your behalf to the Umbral Court.

“They have agreed to place you as an official agent of Nidal in the drow city if you, and perhaps your devout friend, can show proof of your ability.”

Of course it’d be like that. The half-elf had probably even suggested exactly what potentially fatal task would be best suited for the debutante prodigy. “What would please the Umbral Court?”

“The velstrac cultists of Vevelor have long been stepping out of bounds in their proselytization. They’ve recently turned over a hundred honest Kuthite laborers into more heretical velstracs of the Broken Dream.

“Go to their Hall to the Broken Dream at the southern foot of the Mindspin Mountains. Wipe them out before the end of Gozran, and you’ll have your positions in Zirnakaynin. But you must do so discreetly--none of the common folk must know that allies of the Umbral Court turned against our velstrac allies.”

Tycane glanced at Dier. Factoring in tonight(?)’s rest, that gave them less than 48 hours to purge an entire dungeon of velstracs. The Reborn Nidalese, however, maintained his composure.

These weren’t the termagant velstracs that the wizard was recalling from the Shadow Plane. These were the far more humanoid lampadarius velstracs--mortals in transition between voluntarily wounded flesh and shifting shadowstuff.

The occultist and level 20 wizard could handle them in their sleep. Not that the Sun-Dimmer knew that.

Dier smiled icily. “Kindly let Mother know we won’t disappoint her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dier Cleaner "Caxi," bogeyman secret broker occultist 20]  
> NE medium fey  
> Rank: gold, 2 RPs  
> Initiative: +23  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent  
> Aura: deepest fear (30ft)
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 49, shadow blending  
> HP: 440, terrible rejuvenation 5  
> Fortitude: +28  
> Reflex: +25  
> Will: +38  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 15/cold iron  
> SR: 30, resist cold 5, electricity 5
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: 2 shifter’s fury claws +34/25/20/15/10/5 (4d6+28, 19-20/x3) (furious focus power attack)  
> Secondary: bite, hoof  
> Special attacks: painful gaze +10+(6d6), sneak attack +6d6, striking fear
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: detect thoughts, tongues  
> At-will: darkness, gaseous form, ghost sound, invisibility, suggestion  
> 3/day: crushing despair, hold person, quickened phantasmal killer  
> 1/day: disguise self, nightmare, shadow walk, plane shift
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: read magic, detect magic, message, purify food/drink, daze, mage hand, open/close, resistance, grave words, touch of fatigue  
> 1st-level: mindlink, skim, pass without trace, liberating command, memorize page, alter winds, negate aroma, fastidiousness, alarm, restore corpse, sculpt corpse, illusion of calm, mask dweomer, magic aura  
> 2nd-level: see invisibility, locate object, badger's ferocity, make whole, demand offering, levitate, knock, obscure object, escape alarm, scare, purge spirit, misdirection, shifted steps, phantom trap  
> 3rd-level: pierce disguise, arcane sight, hostile levitation, tailwind, deep slumber, keen edge, mark of buoyancy, cloak of winds, nondetection, flesh puppet, sessile spirit, instinct fake, aura alteration, vision of Hell  
> 4th-level: commune with texts, detect scrying, mindwipe, planar adaptation, majestic image, mirror transplant, treasure stitching, true form, dimensional anchor, flesh puppet horde, fear, greater invisibility, quieting weapons, wandering star motes  
> 5th-level: true seeing, find quarry, greater forbid action, telekinesis, overland flight, control winds, waft, Nex’s secret workshop, greater dispel magic, entrap spirit, unwilling shield, false vision, mislead, persistent image  
> 6th-level: greater scrying, soulseeker, cloak of dreams, transfiguring touch, artificer’s curse, disintegrate, control construct, antimagic field, repulsion, harm, plundered power, permanent image, project image, triggered hallucination
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 46 (+8 Physical Enhancement)  
> Dexterity: 49  
> Constitution: 38  
> Intelligence: 38  
> Wisdom: 39  
> Charisma: 43
> 
> Reborn feats: Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Spell Focus (enchantment, illusion)
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Quicken Spell-Like Ability (Phantasmal Killer), Improved Critical (Claw)
> 
> Feats: Power Attack, Furious Focus, Vital Strike, Death or Glory, Critical Focus, Solid Shadows, Intensify Spell, Quicken Spell, Maximize Spell, Empower Spell
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter Claws, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body, Piercing Gaze, Consummate Liar, Towering Ego, Touch Treatment, Mental Potency, Glib Liar, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes, Astounding Avoidance, Spatial Switch, Umbral Transformation 
> 
> Racial abilities: Deepest Fear, Striking Fear, Terrible Rejuvenation
> 
> Class abilities: Implements, Mental Focus, Sudden Insight, Broker Secrets, Share Memory, Physical Enhancement, Legacy Weapon, Object Reading, Aura Sight, Quickness, Steal Secret, Glorious Presence, Cloud Mind, Telekinesis, Size Alteration, Warding Talisman, Mind Barrier, Globe of Negation, Energy Shield, Purge Secret, Necromantic Focus, Mind Fear, Necromantic Servant, Pain Wave, Distortion, Minor Figment, Shadow Beast, Mirage, Color Beam
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: loot
> 
> Implements: ledger of secrets, Ginoba Rasivrein's boots of speed, Panaxoto's ribbon necklace (periapt of Wisdom), Elander's ironwood unholy symbol of Zon-Kuthon, Karzoug's skull, Drin Dealer’s top hat (3 crimson spheres, 3 onyx rhomboids)
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	40. Gone with the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dier makes a choice

The most surprising thing about the Hall to the Broken Dream was nothing about its cultists but that it counted as an overrun dungeon for the way its velstracs were perceived in Nidal. They were pagan “monsters” who left their “dungeon” to draw “innocent Kuthites” into their cult. They did actually practice soul-warping and flesh-warping techniques on their “prey” to create more of their kind, though.

The slaughter at their Hall netted Dier and Tycane their third RP. At which point, the menu or the “game” steward sent the gold ranker a very intriguing alert.

[Reward option unlocked: In preparation for the specialist rank Rebirth, a gold ranker may use 3 RP to purchase their bronze or silver class as a gestalt with a new archetype aligned with their gold rank style of play.

Gestalt classes must be levelled up like any class but with a few key differences. HP, skills, BAB, saves, and spells are only counted by the highest number between the classes. Previously learned class and archetype abilities may be lost or altered while new ones are gained.]

Dier was intrigued. That sounded extremely useful. But he still hadn’t revealed to Tycane that he was gold rank. If the wizard noticed that he was showing new, extremely noticeable abilities when he was purportedly a level 20 silver, there were going to be questions.

Which ruled out shifter as a gestalt while he was still running with Tycane. He checked out what mesmerist had to offer. The archetype was something called an “enigma.”

[An enigma spends their life dedicated to developing psychic abilities that allow them to operate unnoticed. While the target of a mesmerist’s hypnotic stare might not realize that the mesmerist is the source of the strange thoughts invading their mind, an enigma takes that mental obfuscation to a more extreme level. Enigmas often end up serving as master spies and infiltration experts.]

That sounded--exactly what Dier could’ve hoped for! A master of subtlety and keeping a low profile. She purchased the gestalt immediately.

[Feat earned: Improved Vital Strike]

[Piercing Gaze altered]  
[Enigma ability added to Piercing Gaze: Solipsism]

[Solipsism: Whenever the enigma uses hypnotic stare on a creature, the enigma begins to fade from the creature’s view. Until the enigma’s next turn, the enigma gains the effects of concealment against that creature (unless it can see invisible creatures). Starting on the enigma’s next turn, they gain the effect of invisibility against that creature.]

[Reborn ability lost: Consummate Liar]  
[Enigma ability gained: Veiled Steps]

[Veiled Steps: An enigma gains a bonus to Stealth checks equal to 1/4 mesmerist level.]

[Piercing Gaze altered]  
[Enigma ability added to Piercing Gaze: Enigmatic Stare]

[Enigmatic Stare: The target of an enigma’s hypnotic stare takes a –4 penalty on Perception checks to notice the enigma.]

Good deal. Oh yes, very good deal. It was the perfect complement to her current technique of going invisible and then attacking with the bogeyman’s sneak attack boost.

“Ca--Dier, you okay?” asked Tycane, frowning.

They’d been staring into space, but that seemed a fairly normal response to wiping out a dungeon of humanoid ‘monsters.’ Dier nodded slowly, re-gathering their focus.

“I know I said I wasn’t going to judge, but that was pretty awful,” said the wizard. “But what they were doing to those people was equally awful. I guess...I’m glad we stopped them?”

Hat the Cat piped up with an equally confused meow.

Dier’s faintly luminescent golden gaze met his. “I can’t guarantee this will be the worst it gets.”

“I know. This is what I signed up for.”

“But still?”

“I’m uncomfortable, but I’m glad that I am. I should be. I just hope--” That one day he wouldn’t suddenly stop feeling that humanizing discomfort. He didn’t need to say it. Or voice the begged question.

“You and me both.”

The next day, the first of Desnus, the governor of Pangolais called her heir and her guest into her office. She greeted them with a very self-satisfied smile. "Congratulations, Dier, darling. You and Tycane of Nisroch are now official agents of the Umbral Court."

Dier smiled back. "Thank you, Mother."

The governor steepled her fingers as she continued. "Now, the new head of trade relations with Zirnakaynin has only recently been appointed--Mistress Xanthi of the Pale Sun. She will ensure that both of you receive placement in the city, but it may take several months up to a year until all the paperwork goes through.

"As official agents, however, you are now free to travel out of Nidal and serve the dark will of Zon-Kuthon in the wider world. So long as you return monthly to Pangolais, I can provide you with a stipend, so you needn't slum your way across the continent.

"You may choose to stay here at the manor until your placement, as well, but your experiences will be far more limited."

"I should prefer to travel, then," said her heir. "Perhaps to Ustalav. I remember Astrag mentioning it's another country with a long history of vampires."

"Yes. If you'd like to dip your toe in the water, Ustalav, Cheliax, or Geb would be fair places to start. If you do go to Ustalav, you'll find out soon enough that their vampire society is quite different from ours--they exist more as an open secret of the noblesse--suspected but rarely proven to the common folk."

Neither Tycane nor Hat said a word until they were back in the guest wing’s parlor. He set up a ward against prying eyes and ears first. “Why do we need to go to Ustalav?”

He would’ve found out eventually, when it became clear that Dier hadn’t chosen Zirnakaynin to explore the Sekamina level of Darklands. Time for the moment of truth. “Less than a year ago, my friend Anatu and I set off on a quest to find seven cursed artifacts called the Shards of Sin.”

His gray-green eyes widened. Hat the Cat let out a gasp-ish meow. Oh yes, the wizard knew exactly what Dier was talking about. “H-how--how many have you found?”

“Four. The last we checked, the Shard of Wrath was in Zirnakaynin, Gluttony in Ustalav, and Sloth in Numeria.”

“If that was almost a year ago, can you still be sure they’re there?”

Dier opened his mouth. Closed it. “That’s a valid point.”

The shards’ curse altered the bearer’s behavior enough that they easily became a target for elimination by those with good or ill intentions alike. He grudgingly retrieved Karzoug’s black adamantium Shard of Greed from his inventory. He didn’t think the wizard’s eyes could get any bigger. But they did.

“Can you cast discern location?”

“Give me 15 minutes,” answered Tycane, his voice strangled in a hush.

Fifteen minutes later, the two new teammates were staring at the map menu’s 3D vision of the Inner Sea. Both nostalgic wonder and sorrow pricked deep across Dier’s skin. The truth was, he hadn’t completely recovered from the shock of Anatu’s death.

Probably because the tiefling had been his friend. Who’d technically been murdered and raised as an undead. Who Dier had then had to kill with his own hands around the Morrowfall. Yes, he wished he could turn back time on that whole, ill-fated affair. 

But it was a petty grievance on the larger scale of the world. Not something worth mentioning the Cyphergate ritual to Tycane over. For now, he willed himself to appreciate how easily the wizard had cast discern location this time. And that all three of the shards remained in their same locations.

“You know, if it’s truly imperative that we collect these shards,” said Tycane, “then perhaps we should split up. One of us goes to Ustalav, one of us goes to Numeria.”

“But the curse--”

“I have the willpower of a level 20 wizard. Honestly, what’s more astounding is that you’re carrying four of them. How does that work out?”

“It was a racial defense of my past life--I was a serpentfolk, so immune to their mind-affecting curses.”

“A serpentfolk mesmerist--it makes sense.”

“What were you?”

“I--” He shut his eyes. As though to wall out the pain from the memory. “My name was Tyranny Cain. I was a hag witch. I used to run with a friend from an even older time, another world, even. A cavalier, Calamity Rick. What? What’s with that look?”

“I KNOW him. He--” 

Oh no. She shouldn’t have said anything. Yes, she knew him. As Ecchar of House Dreven. Whom she’d allowed to get captured in Korvosa and tortured into a trauma she wouldn’t have wished on her worst enemy.

Tycane held her shoulders to look her in the eye. For an instant, his face was a child’s canvas of hope, his faded eyes searching, reading. Then his brow etched with an adult’s seriousness and concern.

“What happened? Dier? What happened to him?”

Time slowed to a burning, breathless chance. Secret broker and mesmerist, Dier had a choice here that few others would have. Tycane may’ve had the mighty Will of a wizard, but her piercing gaze could penetrate that defense and leave him vulnerable to her memory-wiping abilities.

Because if he found Ecchar, he would learn the truth about Dier. She wasn’t a silver rank, she was gold. In her bronze life, she’d been a feyform shifter. As a fey tiger, she’d killed the Korvosan queen. And she’d let Calamity Rick, now Ecchar of House Dreven, suffer for her stupidity. He was likely still suffering.

It would be easy. So easy. But the thought of manipulating Tycane now hurt them as much as the memory of manipulating Anatu. They’d never gotten a chance to apologize or make amends. Before ending his un-life themself.

The truth would destroy Dier. No. The truth would destroy the lie Dier had created for themself. And only in Tycane’s eyes.

The wizard was powerful, sure, but he wasn’t evil. The worst that would happen would be--he would end their friendship. He wouldn’t go out and destroy every fragment of their life, starting with the family in Yanmass that they were STILL avoiding to protect from anyone possibly tracking the shards on them.

Zarishu, Xosha, and Tanna were safe. That was what mattered most. Anything else, they had to face and handle. That was what it meant to be an adult, wasn’t it?

Dier lurched back into speeding time--actually thankful that Tycane was supporting their shoulders. Their golden eyes met his. “His name’s Ecchar of House Dreven, of the Infernal Empire of Cheliax. The last I saw him, he was at Windsong Abbey out on Varisia’s Lost Coast. Healing. From what happened in Korvosa.”

The wizard’s face fell slack. His hands fell from their shoulders. He stepped back, shaking his head. “Blood veil? The plague? There’s a cure--everyone makes a total recovery.”

“The Shard of Lust was in Korvosa. Queen Leos had it, or maybe it’d been given to her to control her.” Dier had done their d--nedest to avoid thinking about what went down in Korvosa, but now that they spared it a thought, it seemed increasingly likely that the murdered teen queen had been manipulated. Perhaps by that belier devil she’d been consorting with. So who had summoned the devil? 

“Are you saying that was Ecchar? Ecchar killed Queen Leos?”

Oh, how he wanted to say yes. Instead, Dier dug in his heels. Gently, he placed his fingers to Tycane’s temple. It was time to be free of guilt for once.

[Spell cast: mindlink]

In the span of a few, fleeting seconds, he showed his friend everything that had transpired in Korvosa. Starting from their flight onto the docks to their escape to Windsong Abbey.

Tycane staggered back, eyes watering, as though he’d been struck. Dier could only watch in the gut-wrenching pain and guilt he’d thought to avoid as the wizard’s face contorted with an even deeper pain, fury, and utter loathing.

“You’re a monster!” he screamed. He vanished, his three words still ringing like endless bells in Dier’s skull.

The occultist collapsed, wordlessly sobbing on his hands and knees. There was no end to the ringing. No end to the pain. The guilt.

He dragged the ledger of secrets from his inventory. He hadn’t mindwiped Tycane. But he could mindwipe himself. 

A secret broker, he could cull every last one of his awful, painful secrets from his mind and burying them in the pages of his ledger. If he burned them, they could never return to him again.

Dier took the ledger in both shaking hands. Tears splattered onto the page. Only the implement’s magic prevented the ink from running.

He could forget. He could forget everything. He could become a new person. It would be true Rebirth, complete and total in mind and soul. He would be Dier of Pangolais not merely in name but in truth--heir of High Mistress Feilan, devout agent of Zon-Kuthon, kayal-fey aspirant to membership of the cruel and soulless Umbral Court.

Dier blinked rapidly, the gray blurs of the page refocusing into black lines and white void. That wasn’t who she wanted to be. It was a life without humanity. Without love. Without family.

At least nobody Yicaxi of Washfield nowhere had a family who loved her. She had people worth protecting. Memories worth protecting. Her life was worth protecting.

Even if it hurt like Zon-Kuthon’s worst torture-scape.

Dier put the ledger away. There would be a time and a place, but it wasn’t here and it wasn’t now. She stayed on the floor, though. Curling up to cry herself as empty as the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dier Cleaner "Caxi," bogeyman secret broker 20/enigma 1]  
> NE medium fey  
> Rank: gold, 0 RPs  
> Initiative: +23  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent  
> Aura: deepest fear (30ft)
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 49, shadow blending  
> HP: 440, terrible rejuvenation 5  
> Fortitude: +28  
> Reflex: +25  
> Will: +38  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 15/cold iron  
> SR: 30, resist cold 5, electricity 5
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: 2 shifter’s fury claws +34/25/20/15/10/5 (4d6+28, 19-20/x3) (furious focus power attack)  
> Secondary: bite, hoof  
> Special attacks: piercing gaze +10+(6d6), sneak attack +6d6, striking fear
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: detect thoughts, tongues  
> At-will: darkness, gaseous form, ghost sound, invisibility, suggestion  
> 3/day: crushing despair, hold person, quickened phantasmal killer  
> 1/day: disguise self, nightmare, shadow walk, plane shift
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: read magic, detect magic, message, purify food/drink, daze, mage hand, open/close, resistance, grave words, touch of fatigue  
> 1st-level: mindlink, skim, pass without trace, liberating command, memorize page, alter winds, negate aroma, fastidiousness, alarm, restore corpse, sculpt corpse, illusion of calm, mask dweomer, magic aura  
> 2nd-level: see invisibility, locate object, badger's ferocity, make whole, demand offering, levitate, knock, obscure object, escape alarm, scare, purge spirit, misdirection, shifted steps, phantom trap  
> 3rd-level: pierce disguise, arcane sight, hostile levitation, tailwind, deep slumber, keen edge, mark of buoyancy, cloak of winds, nondetection, flesh puppet, sessile spirit, instinct fake, aura alteration, vision of Hell  
> 4th-level: commune with texts, detect scrying, mindwipe, planar adaptation, majestic image, mirror transplant, treasure stitching, true form, dimensional anchor, flesh puppet horde, fear, greater invisibility, quieting weapons, wandering star motes  
> 5th-level: true seeing, find quarry, greater forbid action, telekinesis, overland flight, control winds, waft, Nex’s secret workshop, greater dispel magic, entrap spirit, unwilling shield, false vision, mislead, persistent image  
> 6th-level: greater scrying, soulseeker, cloak of dreams, transfiguring touch, artificer’s curse, disintegrate, control construct, antimagic field, repulsion, harm, plundered power, permanent image, project image, triggered hallucination
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 46 (+8 Physical Enhancement)  
> Dexterity: 49  
> Constitution: 38  
> Intelligence: 38  
> Wisdom: 39  
> Charisma: 43
> 
> Reborn feats: Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Spell Focus (enchantment, illusion)
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Quicken Spell-Like Ability (Phantasmal Killer), Improved Critical (Claw)
> 
> Feats: Power Attack, Furious Focus, Vital Strike, Death or Glory, Critical Focus, Solid Shadows, Intensify Spell, Quicken Spell, Maximize Spell, Empower Spell, Improved Vital Strike
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Kelish, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter Claws, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body, Piercing Gaze, Towering Ego, Touch Treatment, Mental Potency, Glib Liar, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes, Astounding Avoidance, Spatial Switch, Umbral Transformation 
> 
> Racial abilities: Deepest Fear, Striking Fear, Terrible Rejuvenation
> 
> Class abilities: Implements, Mental Focus, Sudden Insight, Broker Secrets, Share Memory, Physical Enhancement, Legacy Weapon, Object Reading, Aura Sight, Quickness, Steal Secret, Glorious Presence, Cloud Mind, Telekinesis, Size Alteration, Warding Talisman, Mind Barrier, Globe of Negation, Energy Shield, Purge Secret, Necromantic Focus, Mind Fear, Necromantic Servant, Pain Wave, Distortion, Minor Figment, Shadow Beast, Mirage, Color Beam
> 
> Gestalt abilities: Veiled Steps
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: loot
> 
> Implements: ledger of secrets, Ginoba Rasivrein's boots of speed, Panaxoto's ribbon necklace (periapt of Wisdom), Elander's ironwood unholy symbol of Zon-Kuthon, Karzoug's skull, Drin Dealer’s top hat (3 crimson spheres, 3 onyx rhomboids)
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	41. First Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dier gains a questline

Dier knew what he had to do. He just wasn’t quite finished processing the mental funk in Tycane’s wake. So in the first few days of Desnus, the final month of spring, he took the scenic route to Ustalav.

He boarded passage on a river ferry and spent day and night staring listlessly into the black waters of the Usk. The ferry took him north to the foot of the Mindspin Mountains. Stretching near 600 miles from the Umbral Basin to the Urglin Gap, they were one of the most prominent mountain ranges in the Inner Sea region. 

While not nearly as high as the Kodars, the Mindspins nevertheless rose towering into the clouds. The rocky, steeply sloped range created the natural border between Nidal, Varisia, the Hold of Belkzen, Nirmathas, and Molthune, providing both protection and isolation to these historically embattled lands. A temperate range, the slopes were currently green with scrub and hardy grasses--only the highest peaks remain capped with snow. 

A cooling rain greeted the docking ferry. The passengers quickly scurried for shelter, but Dier walked slowly, head raised to the sky. It was the rainy season in Yanmass as well. For that brief moment, with his eyes closed, he was home. And the precious rains washed his face clean of tears.

There was no better weather for scaling the mountains. The rains brought the threat of muddy landslides, of course, but the bogeyman could always weather out the storm in his gaseous form. So he climbed, not northward but simply up. Higher and higher until his muscles ached to the bone.

Dier didn’t stop for day or night, rain or shine. He rested only when he collapsed of exhaustion. When he was thirsty, he drank from the rainwater collected in his flask. When he was hungry--well, there were plenty of wandering monsters.

The first beast she killed was a flame drake, bitterly reminiscent of Lieutenant Fathrie’s desert drake mount of the Taldan Horse. 12ft long and 1,500lbs, the monster could easily provide sustenance for months. Determined not to let any part go to waste, Dier spent days in the rocky clearing of its death in the Mindspins’ southern peaks.

She skinned every bit of meat from its bones and cured the strips between rains. In the last few days of the curing, she detected a presence watching her. It didn’t attack, however, so neither did Dier.

On the final day, as she was placing the last strips of meat into her inventory, a shadow fell upon her. She turned, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun that burned above them both.

An adult, four-horned cloud dragon floated in serpentine grace in the clear, mountain air. Instead of blue-white scales, she was plumed in majestic blue and white feathers and fur like a noble griffon of equal stature. Her sky-blue, white-slitted eyes met Dier’s.

“Hi,” squeaked the kayal-fey, desperately hoping she wouldn’t be forced to kill one of the most breathtaking creatures she’d ever seen. She raised her open, empty hands in a sign of good faith and desperate hope.

“Are you a pathfinder?” asked the half-dragon, half-griffon from the Plane of Air. Her voice was deep, soft, and rumbling like the first thrum of thunder from the belly of a pregnant cloud.

Really?! Really?! Though who else but an adventurer would climb so far and seemingly aimless alone. And, she had to have witnessed Dier vanishing all that meat away into her inventory. “I guess I am, but without a wayfinder. I go by a lot of names, but right now, I’m just Dier. Dier Cleaner.”

“You may call me Tintavex. I suppose you could say that I have a quest for you. Strange things have been happening in my mountains. Giants have been amassing, something like the size of an army, outside of a once-abandoned temple.”

“Please tell me you don’t want me to wipe them out. I can’t handle that. Not right now.” Maybe not ever again.

“The Mindspins are the home of the giants as well as my own. I only want to know why they have gathered.”

Tintavex wanted recon. Peaceful, blessed recon. Dier could’ve cried. In fact, they felt their eyes genuinely prickling with relief. They wiped their face on their sleeve, nodding. “Yeah, yeah I can do that.”

[Occultist class ability gained: Outside Contact: Tintavex]  
[Questline gained: The Giants’ Gathering]

They trekked for days through the Mindspins, but with their questgiver’s directions, it was easy enough to find the canyon called Minderhal’s Valley by the giants. It had been carved out by a snaking river fed by hundreds of streams that spilled from the mountains’ icy spires.

Even with Astrag’s comprehensive tutoring, Dier knew little about Minderhal, stone giant deity of law and crafting. From what they’d learned, even the giants were beginning to forget--turning away from revering deities in favor of ancestor worship. Yet as they drifted in gaseous form toward the temple, sure enough they flew over camp after camp of a massive gathering of giants.

As the valley widened, all traces of vegetation disappeared. They’d been cut down or trampled into the dirt and mud. Plumes of smoke from countless campfires rose to join the bogeyman in the sky. Loud, guttural speech and shouts filled the air.

Between the sheltering slopes of the surrounding peaks stretched a broad, muddy expanse where countless giants have set up makeshift camps. Wide roads of trampled earth traversed the valley floor, connecting the camps to smaller side canyons to both the north and south. 

Ahead, a towering edifice of stone loomed over the canyon, carved into the face of a mighty mountain. The great stone cathedral sat atop a wide plateau. From the grounds below, a flight of huge stairs staggers up the mountain slope. 

The two-foot rise of each step was carved directly into the rock  
face. Tall poles decorated with beast skulls, bones, severed limbs had been driven into the stone at each corner where the stairs changed direction.

At the top of the plateau, an immense palisade of trees and  
slab concrete surrounded the ancient temple. Beyond the battlements rose the cathedral’s cold gray walls from the mountain itself. Three colossal towers climbed hundreds of feet into the air. The central spire’s apex was crowned with a carved stone symbol of a huge anvil. 

Four stone giant guards stood out in the late spring night, watching over the gate. Dier’s misty form flew over them as quietly and undetected as the bulk of the giant army. He slipped beneath the cracks of the cathedral doors fashioned from whole tree trunks.

The nave of the cathedral opened into a huge amphitheater, 100ft high. Three tiers of curved stone benches were arranged in immense horseshoes around the chamber’s centerpiece, a great pit filled with cold black slag. From the middle of the slag pit rose a wide, round platform of black basalt. 

A great forge, its fire gone cold, sats at the center of the platform beneath the soot-stained ceiling. Leaning against it was a massive iron anvil the size of a cow. A bridge of stone connected the unhollow but inactive forge to a dais at the rear of the hall, where a towering statue of a stone giant sternly overlooked the entire cathedral.

The occultist in Dier was compelled toward the forge and anvil. They were, without a doubt, magic artifacts with a story to tell. She materialized in the shadows. An invisible bogeyman, she crept toward both giant-proportioned objects, her hands outstretched.

[Object Reading activated]  
[Artifact identified: Minderhal’s Forge]

In ancient times, the stone giants of the Mindspins built the sacred forge to honor Minderhal, He Who Makes and Unmakes. Minderhal’s Forge was a repository of awesome power, but long had its fires lain cold.

Four ancient, giant heroes brought the forge to life. The first was Mymrith the Maker, priestess of Fandarra, who prepared fallen warriors for the afterlife by anointing their bodies with sacred clay. She lined the forge with the clay to contain the fire within.

The second was Aduromi, the Priestess of Crystals, whose veins ran hot with molten metal and who could temper steel to a hardness that would cut diamonds. She brought with her the secrets of the fire geodes, which once ignited would burn for a century.

The third was Jogrothir the Hunter, guardian of the sacred horn Drakesbane, which he used to call the ancient drakes native to the surrounding peaks. Jogrothir brought the forge to life, for he alone was able to capture the dragon’s breath, the only flame  
hot enough to ignite the fire geodes.

The last was Rosag, the Preserver of the Forge. A great priestess of Minderhal, Rosag held the secrets of water—-both its ability to temper metal as well as its capacity to quench the sacred flames. She performed the Blessing of Rosag, the final incantation that stoked the fires and sanctified the forge.

Only by following in their footsteps, by repeating those acts which have been undone, would the fires of Minderhal’s Forge once again blossom. When they did, the forge had the power to resize weapons and armor. This divine power was so strong that even magic or intelligent items could be affected.

That was one question answered. The giants were here to arm their growing forces. Only, they hadn’t managed to gather all the materials yet. Perhaps they were at the task right now--a questline for the giants.

As for who had gathered them and why--Minderhal’s Forge gave Dier a couple leads. Only two giants ever set foot on the forge platform. One was a stone giant inquisitor. The other was a slag giant who did so in stealth.

The bogeyman returned to her gaseous cloud to search the cathedral for the slag giant from her vision. Ferin, their name was. The young, brown-skinned giant was busy picking things from the huge, crooked shelves of the temple larder. Furtively.

[Spell cast: cloak of dreams]

Ferin thudded to the floor, toppling a covered basket of food and other supplies. The occultist’s suspicions that the slag giant was stealing from the army were confirmed the second she used Steal Secret on the ‘scullery maid.’

In fact, Ferin was the disciple of the temple’s Keeper of the Forge, an ancient, elderly giant who was here long before the army. No, that was the inquisitor, Uthrash, who’d brought them here to try to claim the power of the sacred forge for a giant warlord, Solstus the Storm Tyrant. Whom none of the other giants had seen.

Off to find Uthrash it was! Ferin would wake in a few moments--maybe a little foggy but none the wiser.

It was nearly morning when Dier found his chamber in the cathedral’s central spire. Two stone giant warriors guarded his doors. A huge cave bear slept at his feet.

[Steal Secret activated]

Uthrash was born in the southern Mindspin Mountains to a small tribe of stone giants who believed themselves to be the direct descendants of the first race of giants that walked the world long before the coming of the smaller races. As a child, he grew up listening to ancient tales of the Runelords and the great diaspora in which his ancestors fled their homes out of fear of the Runelords’ horrific rituals, which transformed giants into scarred runeslaves.

In his adolescent years, he ventured into Varisia’s Iron Peaks to seek out the fabled temple called Minderhal’s Anvil, the sight of which overwhelmed the young giant and awoke in him a deep conviction that he must somehow renew his people. Uthrash adopted Minderhal as his patron and became an inquisitor of his faith. 

Not long after, he uncovered hints of another temple devoted to his deity. In a secluded valley in the mountains just north of his homeland, ancient giants, perhaps even his direct ancestors, had constructed a tremendous temple known as the Cathedral of Minderhal. Believing that Minderhal’s Valley belonged by right to his people, Uthrash launched a crusade to rediscover and restore the ancient temple.

Which caught the attention of Solstus the Storm Tyrant. The Storm Tyrant placed Uthrash in charge of recruiting giants for his army of conquest and revolution--to seize the reins of power back from the small folk and place them firmly back in giant hands.

While Uthrash recruited and indoctrinated the gathering giants in the faith of Minderhal, on the ground below, the Storm Tyrant made his plans for conquest in his flying, cloud giant castle over the Mindspins. His armies couldn’t move forward until the forge was lit and they were armed with the resized weapons of the small folk. But with giants searching every corner of the valley for the sacred elements, it wouldn’t be long.

Dier broke their connection with the inquisitor. They had half a mind to kill the “monster” where he slept. The other half, after reading through his mind and secrets like a book, couldn’t possibly consider him a monster.

Nidal was full of lawful evil fanatics no different from Uthrash. Perhaps he was even in the right to claim the Mindspins as a nation for giantkind.

No, the real threat here was this Storm Tyrant. Solstus wouldn’t be satisfied with simply a mountain range. Dier knew that for a fact, because they’d seen the storm giant. He had a truly titanic physique with deep violet skin, blue-black hair, and silver eyes that sparked with lightning.

He was also in possession of an Orb of Red Dragonkind. The inhuman artifact contained the essence and personality of a red great wyrm, king of the chromatic dragons. Crafted by ancient, unequivocally evil powers, these orbs granted the wielder the defenses and breath weapon of the dragon within. As well as the ability to dominate and enslave the dragons of its kind.

There were few objects of greater power. Solstus, the real monster here, was already using it.

Dier shadow walked out of the valley. Time was once more of the essence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dier Cleaner "Caxi," bogeyman secret broker 20/enigma 1]  
> NE medium fey  
> Rank: gold, 0 RPs  
> Initiative: +23  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent  
> Aura: deepest fear (30ft)
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 49, shadow blending  
> HP: 440, terrible rejuvenation 5  
> Fortitude: +28  
> Reflex: +25  
> Will: +38  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 15/cold iron  
> SR: 30, resist cold 5, electricity 5
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: 2 shifter’s fury claws +34/25/20/15/10/5 (4d6+28, 19-20/x3) (furious focus power attack)  
> Secondary: bite, hoof  
> Special attacks: piercing gaze +10+(6d6), sneak attack +6d6, striking fear
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: detect thoughts, tongues  
> At-will: darkness, gaseous form, ghost sound, invisibility, suggestion  
> 3/day: crushing despair, hold person, quickened phantasmal killer  
> 1/day: disguise self, nightmare, shadow walk, plane shift
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: read magic, detect magic, message, purify food/drink, daze, mage hand, open/close, resistance, grave words, touch of fatigue  
> 1st-level: mindlink, skim, pass without trace, liberating command, memorize page, alter winds, negate aroma, fastidiousness, alarm, restore corpse, sculpt corpse, illusion of calm, mask dweomer, magic aura  
> 2nd-level: see invisibility, locate object, badger's ferocity, make whole, demand offering, levitate, knock, obscure object, escape alarm, scare, purge spirit, misdirection, shifted steps, phantom trap  
> 3rd-level: pierce disguise, arcane sight, hostile levitation, tailwind, deep slumber, keen edge, mark of buoyancy, cloak of winds, nondetection, flesh puppet, sessile spirit, instinct fake, aura alteration, vision of Hell  
> 4th-level: commune with texts, detect scrying, mindwipe, planar adaptation, majestic image, mirror transplant, treasure stitching, true form, dimensional anchor, flesh puppet horde, fear, greater invisibility, quieting weapons, wandering star motes  
> 5th-level: true seeing, find quarry, greater forbid action, telekinesis, overland flight, control winds, waft, Nex’s secret workshop, greater dispel magic, entrap spirit, unwilling shield, false vision, mislead, persistent image  
> 6th-level: greater scrying, soulseeker, cloak of dreams, transfiguring touch, artificer’s curse, disintegrate, control construct, antimagic field, repulsion, harm, plundered power, permanent image, project image, triggered hallucination
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 46 (+8 Physical Enhancement)  
> Dexterity: 49  
> Constitution: 38  
> Intelligence: 38  
> Wisdom: 39  
> Charisma: 43
> 
> Reborn feats: Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Spell Focus (enchantment, illusion)
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Quicken Spell-Like Ability (Phantasmal Killer), Improved Critical (Claw)
> 
> Feats: Power Attack, Furious Focus, Vital Strike, Death or Glory, Critical Focus, Solid Shadows, Intensify Spell, Quicken Spell, Maximize Spell, Empower Spell, Improved Vital Strike
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Giant, Kelish, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter Claws, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body, Piercing Gaze, Towering Ego, Touch Treatment, Mental Potency, Glib Liar, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes, Astounding Avoidance, Spatial Switch, Umbral Transformation 
> 
> Racial abilities: Deepest Fear, Striking Fear, Terrible Rejuvenation
> 
> Class abilities: Implements, Mental Focus, Sudden Insight, Broker Secrets, Share Memory, Physical Enhancement, Legacy Weapon, Object Reading, Aura Sight, Quickness, Steal Secret, Glorious Presence, Cloud Mind, Telekinesis, Size Alteration, Warding Talisman, Mind Barrier, Globe of Negation, Energy Shield, Purge Secret, Necromantic Focus, Mind Fear, Necromantic Servant, Pain Wave, Distortion, Minor Figment, Shadow Beast, Mirage, Color Beam, Outside Contact
> 
> Gestalt abilities: Veiled Steps
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: loot, traveling gear
> 
> Implements: ledger of secrets, Ginoba Rasivrein's boots of speed, Panaxoto's ribbon necklace (periapt of Wisdom), Elander's ironwood unholy symbol of Zon-Kuthon, Karzoug's skull, Drin Dealer’s top hat (3 crimson spheres, 3 onyx rhomboids)
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Questlines:  
> -The Giants’ Gathering
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	42. Dark Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a good place for a cliffhanger. End Part 1, cliffhanger to Part 2

“I must go to this castle at once,” said Tintavex, blue eyes crackling with their own electric determination. “Solstus must be stopped at all costs and the orb destroyed.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Dier.

“The ownership of an orb of dragonkind is a declaration of war against all dragons. I go to bring this war, Dier. I go to bring death.”

The bogeyman set his jaw. “I’m a pathfinder, Tintavex. This cloud castle is full of monsters. It’s a dungeon, and it’s my duty to clear it out.”

The half-dragon, half-griffon, gave him a grim, fanged grin. “Then we go together, little pathfinder. Have you ever ridden a cloud dragon?”

“Never,” he answered, gold eyes sparkling with child-like excitement.

“Hold on tight. We fly fast.”

True to her word, she flew at dizzying speed past the peaks of the Mindspins where the air was thin and freezing. Without Gouqi’s endure elements spell, Dier had to shift into gaseous form simply to keep from passing out. Once they neared the flying castle, even Tintavex shifted into cloud form.

Ironcloud Keep, a relatively compact citadel in giant’s eyes, was a cloud castle of titanic proportions from a small folk perspective. The keep was more than 500ft tall and weighed 10 million tons together with its base, an immense body of crystalline rock more than 400ft tall. Despite its size and weight, a magical engine within its base created an antigravity effect so powerful that it kept the entire fortress afloat as though weightless.

The castle had seven distinct levels. The lowest floor, the engine level, was hewn into the keep’s rocky base. Two spiral staircases connected the engine level to castle’s first  
floor on the base’s “ground level,” approximately 200ft above the engine level. 

Four more floors, each 60ft high, were stacked atop the ground level. Lastly, a large attic was located beneath the conical roof of the main tower at the highest rise of the castle. 

The crystalline base magically emitted a shroud of thick mist, which increased in size due to condensation when Ironcloud Keep remained stationary. This 600ft diameter of mist blended perfectly with natural clouds in the atmosphere and hid the base of the castle from sight. 

It also provided concealment to anyone or any cloud within the cloud. There was a repulsion field around the citadel that would’ve kept out even the most powerful casters, but these two clouds were no ordinary adventurers.

[Dungeon entered: Ironcloud Keep]

So it began. Tintavex wanted to start at the top, but Dier advised her telepathically otherwise. They had to start at the bottom. The Storm Tyrant wouldn’t dare let his enslaved, fire-breathing red dragons anywhere near the engine.

Which meant the pair would have the entire castle by the horns. And Dier was free to level up to strength she’d need to survive the dragon army.

She and the cloud dragon were equally matched in strength. Only that Tintavex couldn’t heal by eating their fallen foes. So the half-dragon, half-griffon’s HP was chipped away with every fight.

In the end, it was Dier who had to face Solstus and his dragons alone. But they were a level 20, half-casting gestalt. And the storm giant was no mage. He was a mere fighter who’d gotten his giant hands on an artifact far more powerful than himself.

As soon as the orb rolled from his cold, dead hand, every red dragon flying around the citadel’s mezzanine fell silent. The dungeon was cleared but Dier fled the Hells out of the tower. They were just in time as blast after blast of incinerating flame was directed at the fallen tyrant and his terrible orb.

Only the breath weapon of the sealed dragon’s descendant could destroy the artifact, but now that it was in red dragon claws, the freed creatures would scour the world to ensure its destruction.

[Questline completed: The Giants’ Gathering]  
[Reward earned: +1 RP]

Dier returned, weary and joyous, to Tintavex’s side. They spent that summer exploring and documenting every part of the great, flying citadel--the bogeyman only returning to Pangolais now and again to make sure that Feilan didn’t worry. They didn’t quite love the evil Kuthite, but they’d developed a fond affection for her.

At summer’s end, the governor informed them that their paperwork had gone through. They’d have a position in Zirnakaynin on the first of Rova, the first day of fall. Dier broke the news to their friend as they sat that night in the giant’s observatory.

A stained-glass dome covered the round room, filtering the  
outside light in a dazzling display of colors. A huge silver telescope stood beneath the dome, mounted on a massive wheeled trolley on tracks that ran a full circle around the room. The telescope was magical, with a strong divination aura, and its lens allowed perfect observation of the heavens under any light or weather conditions.

The apex of the dome was 100ft above the floor. The stained glass of the dome possessed a partial prismatic wall effect that reminded Dier of the prismatic sphere within Windsong’s lighthouse. 

Any of the eight wedges of the stained-glass dome could be made completely transparent with a command word in Giant--which Tintavex and Dier had studied together over the summer. Currently, they’d made all eight transparent for a breathtaking view of the constellations above.

“Half this castle belongs to you,” said Tintavex, finally breaking the silence. She spoke in her native tongue of Auran, another of the languages Dier had insisted on studying this summer, along with Draconic.

“I can’t take items with me,” they said quietly. Then more directly, “Could I ask you a favor about that?”

“What is it?”

“I’d like to donate my half to the poor of Old Korvosa. I can’t go to Korvosa myself, but I know a half-orc there. Sablin, innkeeper of the Dancing Pony. They’re a good sort and could make the deliveries if you brought the treasures there in manageable amounts for a small folk.”

Tintavex’s blue and white feathers shimmered and smoked. She shifted into a cloud of whirling white. That shrank and coalesced into humanoid form.

She appeared as a slyph, her skin the deep blue of the sky. Her hair was a thick cloud of curls, still wisping smoke at the ends. Her build was stocky and beautiful. “Will this do?”

Dier had to blink several times before words returned to their parched throat. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s, um, great. You look great.”

“Do I?” said Tintavex, her voice rumbling with laughter.

“Beautiful and powerful,” he answered, his voice still awkward and hushed. “It--it suits you.”

“Dier?”

“Y-yes?”

“Would you kiss me? Neither dragons nor griffons kiss, but small folk seem very fond of it.”

“Um, yes. Sure.” Dier rose to his feet. He approached the sylph with unsteady steps.

Tintavex smiled in bemusement. He smiled back. It was the only thing that gave him the courage to lean in toward her. His lips brushed hers as gently as the lightest touch of rain.

He pulled away, his eyes searching hers fearfully. She gave the slightest nod and leaned in to kiss him again. This time, to devour.

It was a new experience for the both of them. Tintavex had many dragon and griffon lovers over the 200 years of her life, but never had they both taken humanoid form. And it only made it harder for the two friends to part ways.

But Dier had a Shard of Sin to find, likely in the uppermost echelon of Zirnakaynin society. A world-altering calamity to prevent and all that. And Tintavex was going to help him help the Old Korvosans who’d had their fellows massacred by their current overlords’ forces.

First, she flew him down in her true form back to the base of the Mindspin Mountains. Where the stone giants and their allies had begun setting up the giant nation of Minderhala. She leaned down her feathered head. He pressed his forehead to hers.

“Goodbye, Tintavex. I’ll never forget you.”

“Come visit me, Dier. In OUR castle in the clouds.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be on the surface world again.”

“Dragons live a long time.” 

That they did. Dier smiled, blinking hard, and gave her dear feathered head one last kiss.

The next morning, on the first of Rova, the governor of Pangolais brought her heir down to the teleportation chamber in the basement of her manor. Dier had shifted her tophat into a black headband with alternating gems of crimson and onyx. Her dark coat, she shifted into one of the long, sleek, leather variety popular in Ridwan, Nidal’s military center.

There was one more newly appointed agent who would join them. Since Tycane of Nisroch had declined the position by failing to respond within the allotted time, Mistress Xanthi had immediately passed it on to the next qualified candidate, as things were getting rather desperate in this particular Zirnakaynin office.

The young elf moved noiselessly down the shadowed steps to join them. He was quite the looker--grayish-pale with a long, fluid mane of ink-black hair. His appearance was even enough to send a ripple of disquiet through Dier’s typically immaculate composure.

“Dier, darling, this is your new coworker--one of them, anyway--Laconte of Uskwood.”

“A pleasure,” said her heir, frigidly.

“The pleasure is all mine,” said the elf, taking her hand to brush his lips to its back, “Dier of Pangolais.”

To Feilan’s amusement, her heir retrieved her hand as fast as politely possible.

“If I may, how did you come by this position exactly?” they asked, their voice still bristling with icicles.

“I didn’t massacre a hall full of velstracs, if that’s what you’re asking,” said Laconte with half a roguish smile. “I led the Umbral Court to a little place called Xin-Shalast.”

“What?” There was the tiniest, almost imperceptible squeak in their voice. They must have recalled the lost city of Xin-Shalast from their studies with Astrag.

Feilan nodded approvingly. Her heir was both an excellent study and possessed the finest memory. The governor herself filled in the gap. “Oh yes, Laconte warned us of the occluding field. The shadowcasters did try their luck, but it was too powerful even for them. They never would’ve been able to find the city without his Robes of Xin-Shalast--the delivery of that artifact itself was more than enough to merit a position of agency. The Umbral Court gave our friend here the pick of the draw when it came to placement.”

“Then what in Xovaikain made an elf of the woodlands want to take a position in the Darklands?”

He shrugged, nonplussed. “I’d heard tell of Zirnakaynin and wanted to see the great metropolis of my subterranean brethren for myself. Funny thing, the person who told me about the city--dangled it in front of my face, really--also refused to ever take me there. So I took it upon myself to merit a way in.”

“How wonderful for you,” said Dier, doing their d--nedest not to grind their teeth and arouse any more suspicion from their ‘mother.’ Because THAT BASTARD.

He’d basically ensured that the skulks would be driven out of their home and into hiding once more as well as throw perhaps the largest treasure trove Golarion had ever seen into the lap of one of the most vile, openly evil nations of the Inner Sea region. 

Nidal was MADE for the next century if not the entire rest of its history. It was only a matter of time before General Roarik took the Adamant Company out conquering. It would only take as long as the shadowcasters needed to convert their loot from the ancient city into spell materials to broaden the shadows of Zon-Kuthon. And all for the outrageously stupid sake of getting back at Dier!

He wanted to kill Laconte. Without exaggeration. That bastard had single-handedly...opened the world to a calamity of Nidalese making.

Dier locked his blazing, golden stare on the incalculably stupid, disaster elf’s face. “Ready when you are, Mother.”

He’d looked it up. Murder was practically legal in Zirnakaynin so long as none of the drow nobility was involved. The sooner they teleported, the better for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dier Cleaner "Caxi," bogeyman secret broker 20/enigma 20]  
> NE medium fey  
> Rank: gold, 2 RPs  
> Initiative: +23  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent  
> Aura: deepest fear (30ft), absentia
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 51, shadow blending  
> HP: 440, terrible rejuvenation 5  
> Fortitude: +28  
> Reflex: +32  
> Will: +44  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison  
> DR: 15/cold iron  
> SR: 30, resist cold 5, electricity 5
> 
> [Offense]  
> Melee: 2 shifter’s fury claws +35/26/21/16/11/6/1 (4d6+28, 19-20/x3) (furious focus power attack)  
> Secondary: bite, hoof  
> Special attacks: sneak attack +12d6, striking fear
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: detect thoughts, tongues  
> At-will: darkness, gaseous form, ghost sound, invisibility, suggestion  
> 3/day: crushing despair, hold person, quickened phantasmal killer  
> 1/day: disguise self, nightmare, shadow walk, plane shift
> 
> [Spells]  
> 0-level: read magic, detect magic, message, purify food/drink, daze, mage hand, open/close, resistance, grave words, touch of fatigue  
> 1st-level: mindlink, skim, pass without trace, liberating command, memorize page, alter winds, negate aroma, fastidiousness, alarm, restore corpse, sculpt corpse, illusion of calm, mask dweomer, magic aura  
> 2nd-level: see invisibility, locate object, badger's ferocity, make whole, demand offering, levitate, knock, obscure object, escape alarm, scare, purge spirit, misdirection, shifted steps, phantom trap  
> 3rd-level: pierce disguise, arcane sight, hostile levitation, tailwind, deep slumber, keen edge, mark of buoyancy, cloak of winds, nondetection, flesh puppet, sessile spirit, instinct fake, aura alteration, vision of Hell  
> 4th-level: commune with texts, detect scrying, mindwipe, planar adaptation, majestic image, mirror transplant, treasure stitching, true form, dimensional anchor, flesh puppet horde, fear, greater invisibility, quieting weapons, wandering star motes  
> 5th-level: true seeing, find quarry, greater forbid action, telekinesis, overland flight, control winds, waft, Nex’s secret workshop, greater dispel magic, entrap spirit, unwilling shield, false vision, mislead, persistent image  
> 6th-level: greater scrying, soulseeker, cloak of dreams, transfiguring touch, artificer’s curse, disintegrate, control construct, antimagic field, repulsion, harm, plundered power, permanent image, project image, triggered hallucination
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 46 (+8 Physical Enhancement)  
> Dexterity: 50  
> Constitution: 38  
> Intelligence: 40  
> Wisdom: 40  
> Charisma: 44
> 
> Reborn feats: Spell Penetration, Greater Spell Penetration, Spell Focus (enchantment, illusion)
> 
> Racial feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack, Skill Focus (Stealth), Quicken Spell-Like Ability (Phantasmal Killer), Improved Critical (Claw)
> 
> Feats: Power Attack, Furious Focus, Vital Strike, Death or Glory, Critical Focus, Solid Shadows, Intensify Spell, Quicken Spell, Maximize Spell, Empower Spell, Improved Vital Strike, Accursed Critical
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Auran, Common, Draconic, Giant, Kelish, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Reborn abilities: Fey Aspect, Wild Empathy, Defensive Instinct, Shifter Claws, Shifter’s Fury, A Thousand Faces, Timeless Body, Piercing Gaze, Towering Ego, Mental Potency
> 
> Racial abilities: Deepest Fear, Striking Fear, Terrible Rejuvenation
> 
> Class abilities: Implements, Mental Focus, Sudden Insight, Broker Secrets, Share Memory, Physical Enhancement, Legacy Weapon, Object Reading, Aura Sight, Quickness, Steal Secret, Glorious Presence, Cloud Mind, Telekinesis, Size Alteration, Warding Talisman, Mind Barrier, Globe of Negation, Energy Shield, Purge Secret, Necromantic Focus, Mind Fear, Necromantic Servant, Pain Wave, Distortion, Minor Figment, Shadow Beast, Mirage, Color Beam, Outside Contact
> 
> Gestalt abilities: Veiled Steps, Transfer Affliction, Sneak Attack, Detection Void, Absentia, Fleet in Shadows, Chain of Eyes, Spatial Switch, Umbral Transformation, Free in Body, Unwitting Messenger, Slip Bonds, Spectral Smoke, Compel Alacrity, Life Reviver
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: 30K gp, loot, field gear
> 
> Implements: ledger of secrets, Ginoba Rasivrein's boots of speed, Panaxoto's ribbon necklace (periapt of Wisdom), Elander's ironwood unholy symbol of Zon-Kuthon, Karzoug's skull, Drin Dealer’s top hat (3 crimson spheres, 3 onyx rhomboids)
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Questlines:
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	43. O Birth, Won't You Spare Me O'er 'Til Another Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Water, earth, air, FIRE

But Dier didn’t kill Laconte. Because there was only one way out of this. And it was so extreme that it rendered any attempt on the elf’s life not only petty but pointless.

It hinged on Tycane, the Cyphergate, and the accursed time ritual in the Sihedron Tome. If Dier was going to help the wizard turn back time, it was even pointless for him to search for the Shard of Wrath.

No, once he and the rogue teleported to Zirnakaynin, they found themself in Drash House, pathfinder guild house of the Dry Walkers. Dier simply requested of the noble drow Captain Moivas that they be put on different task forces.

In the kayal-fey’s eyes, nothing mattered since he was going to reverse time, so he was ruthless in his clearance of dungeons and completion of quests. All he could do was rack up an inconceivable amount of RP to use, potentially, for bargaining with Tycane. So he did so, for ten years in the Darklands.

In the “Overburn” above, he kept track of the wizard’s whereabouts. Nidal’s shadow-conquests of Varisia, Nirmathas, Lastwall, Minderhala, the Hold of Belkzen, and Ustalav made them the most powerful empire on the western coast of Avistan. And the nation of Zon-Kuthon showed no sign of stopping. 

Tycane fled for Irrisen, a nation safe from the Dark Prince’s shadows only because it was under a tyrannous reign of its own. The land of accursed, eternal winter was in thrall to Baba Yaga, queen of the witches, and her powerful, magically-inclined offspring, the Jadwiga. The wizard and his familiar hid in her snow-capped domain in a tiny cottage in the Hoarwood Forest.

Neither he nor Hat were pleased when the ageless visitor from their past showed up on their doorstep. After he’d left Nidal, he’d gone straight to Windsong Abbey in search of Calamity Rick, now Ecchar. And had been left devastated by the uncovery of his friend’s fate.

Tycane had spent years at the abbey doing everything he could to help rehabilitate Ecchar. He’d studied every spell in the Sihedron Tome, every ritual. He had, in fact, hit upon the very same idea as Dier--use the Cyphergate to turn back time.

But he lacked the ritual’s sacrificial material. It was something called a thrice-refined, golden soul. He assumed at once that it meant the soul of a gold ranker. And had spent his next years in search of one deserving of death. He found, however, that due to a lack of RP, the gold ranker’s he’d killed and trapped within his soul gems had not been able to refine their souls. 

Dier was different. She knew exactly what that byline meant--a gold ranker who’d completed gestalt of both bronze and silver classes. It was talking about her.

She volunteered to be the sacrifice. It didn’t really matter how far Tycane turned back time, after all. Not as long as it ensured that her family would be safe. Her friends would be safe. Tintavex would be alive. Her found family at Windsong would be alive. And perhaps she’d even, finally be free of the burden of these gods-forsaken Shards of Sin.

In the end, Tycane refused any of her “bloody RP.” He was more than bitterly happy to kill her as a matter of principle. Of his own petty vengeance.

[You have died.]

[The Reborn Points on your person automatically entitle you to a reincarnation, should you choose to continue your development on this earth. However, you may also forfeit reincarnation and allow your soul to continue to Pharasma’s Boneyard for your judgment and final reward.]

She was back. Back in that limbo between life and death with that distant, distorted hum of music in the background.

“Hey, Steward. It’s me again.”

There was no response. Until there was.

[Yes.]

How warm of them. Dier shook their mental head. They were tired. Maybe it was time to go to their final reward and rest.

No, what reward? They’d spent the last ten years brutally killing any creature, sentient and non alike, in the dungeons. There’d be no reward for them. No rest. Maybe just a tortured eternity in Xovaikain.

Dier wanted to scream. The only way to do it right was to do it all over again. A new life. A pure and innocent life. In Tycane’s new world where they’d more than likely never even been born.

They did scream, mentally. Psychically. With whatever part of their consciousness that this was. They spent a good, long time screaming now that they finally had all the time in the world.

“Steward?” they finally croaked, their head voice hoarse and broken even if it was all in their head.

[Yes?]

“Any way that you could wipe me clean in my next life? Clean of all my evils?”

[Souls are Reborn with a neutral alignment.]

That was--strangely comforting, actually. Dier smiled, the embers of hope kindling in their heart. They could live again, and if they did it right, they'd need only live this one, last time.

He looked through his non-caster class options first. He'd done and had it with magic. That left him with brawler, fighter, ninja, ranger, rogue, or slayer. Now, he'd learned levelling up required monster slaying, but if he was in a party, then he didn't actually have to be the one doing any of the slaying.

The best part was, there was an extremely high chance that Dier would be sent back to a time before he'd ever acquired the shards. Which meant it was time to have fun. Time to live life to the fullest--without the fear and pressure of having to save the world. He selected the ninja class.

[The ninja is an alternate class for the rogue core class. 

Thief, sneak, charmer, diplomat--all of these and more describe the rogue. When not skulking in the shadows, disarming traps, and stealing from the unaware, rogues may rub shoulders with the powerful or plot capers with fellow crooks. While others may call them charlatans and burglars, even the most larcenous rogues tend to consider themselves consummate professionals, willing to take on any job if the price is right.

Ninjas are masters of infiltration, sabotage, and assassination, using a wide variety of weapons, practiced skills, and mystical powers to achieve their goals. The ninja spends their time honing their skills, practicing their art, or working on their next assignment. Even at rest, the ninja is ever vigilant and ready for the situation to turn deadly.]

Dier was sure to be vigilant--keeping his teammates alive. He wasn't doing anything without a team anymore. They could be the monster slayers and dungeon discoverers. All he wanted was a quiet life of maybe unlocking secret doors and treasure chest while making sure nobody else he knew ever bit the dust.

[Weapon and Armor Proficiency: Ninjas are proficient with all simple weapons, plus the kama, katana, kusarigama, nunchaku, sai, shortbow, short sword, shuriken, siangham, and wakizashi. They are proficient with light armor but not with shields.]

If they got Reborn with her, Dier would probably just stick with her natural strikes. Shuriken were pretty iconic for ninja, though. And she'd never really used ranged weaponry before--something to think about.

[Poison Use: At 1st level, a ninja is trained in the use of poison and cannot accidentally poison themself when applying poison to a weapon.]

That was almost ironic, seeing as she'd originally been a vishkanya/serpentfolk. Heck, she might even continue being immune to poison in her next life. If not, this would come much more in handy.

[Sneak Attack: +1d6, if a ninja can catch an opponent when they are unable to defend themself effectively from the attack, they can strike a vital spot for extra damage.]

Ah, sneak attack. With the greater invisibility effect from solipsism, it was the perfect way to get in more damage on a single strike. Moreover, with the mesmerist's psychic inception ability, creatures normally immune to it still had a 50% chance of being affected.

Huh. Dier was starting to get a sense of why this Rebirth rank was called "specialist." All these gestalted and refined abilities truly had the potential to come together as very deadly and comprehensive whole.

[Select race]

Maybe it was time to give human Dier a fair shot. Those times with the Windbacks, venturing into Xin-Shalast, were some of her fondest memories. Before they'd become tainted by that elf's selfish, world-altering petty vengeance.

[Human selected]

[Secret racial ability unlocked: Dragon Scholar]

[Dragons have a long history of individual interactions with specific humans, and some humans seek to better understand this relationship. Humans with this trait receive a +2 racial bonus on caster level checks to overcome a dragon’s spell resistance. In addition, they receive a +3 racial bonus on Knowledge (arcana) checks related to creatures of the dragon type. This trait replaces humans’ bonus feat racial trait.]

Tintavex. This had to have come from the one fleeting moment of their life they considered perfect--their summer with the dragon-griffon.

[Secret racial ability unlocked: Heart of the Sun]

[Humans born in tropical climates treat hot climates as one category less severe. They also gain a +2 racial bonus on Fortitude saving throws against the effects of a hot climate, as well as against the poison and distraction ability of swarms and vermin. This racial trait replaces skilled.]

Well, thank the gods. They hadn't even considered the possibility that they might get born into a cold-climated nation with ninjas, which had to exist. This was far, far better. And perhaps the last gift of their vishkanyan mother.

They put their +2 ability score bonus into Strength so it about evened up with their Dexterity. Halfway to 100 on both of those. They had just enough time to idly wonder how they stacked up against other gold gestalts when they were whisked away from darkness and music and into light.

[??? years in the rewound past]

There were few Tian-La in Quain, Tian-Xia's Land of a Thousand Heroes. Even fewer in Baguan, the last town before Quain's Seething Hills--a region of steam caverns and scalding geysers said to be caused by the breath of the great Four Winds Tortoise slumbering in their depths.

It was part of Hoxi Ranshadan's draw at Mango Gold, one of the seedier, slum-side brothels. The young Tian-La's clients were mostly ophidian nagaji from across the southern border with a scattering of non-reptilian Tian-Shu who came to train with one of Baguan's martial arts clans. When the Shaguang immigrant became pregnant, rumor had it that the babe was a literal snake in their belly.

While little Hoxi Sanca was born without scales, his eyes were a golden brown not to be found in his parent or any of the Tian-Shu in town. He refused to drink Ranshadan’s milk, which was also odd. Strangest of all, however, as his parent discovered while feeding him with a milk-soaked rag like a foundling animal, the infant’s sex changed as fluidly as gender.

The poor Tian-La believed their equally poor babe to be cursed. Or blessed. Touched by some spirit on this, the night of summer solstice. Even here in the tropics, it was a day of powerful magic.

But Ranshadan was too tired to do anything about it now. They promptly fell asleep after handing the child over to Mango Gold’s nursemaid--the eldest of the children born to the brothel workers. 12-year-old Ju Chuzi carried his newest sibling into the nursery with the other children sleeping on wicker floor mats.

He placed the babe with large, funny-colored eyes into the creaky old cradle that was older than the ages of all seven of the children here put together. 

“Welcome to the world, lil’ Sanca,” Chuzi whispered. It was a small world, a poor world, but it was theirs.

Sanca, laying in her crib, mosquitoes buzzing in the muggy night air, had to fight with all her monstrous, unnatural strength of body and mind not to burst into tears. She’d checked her inventory. Those gods-d--ned Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed were still there, impossibly there.

She breathed deep and hard of the sweltering, tropic air. In and out, in and out until the overwhelming urge to cry passed. Until there was nothing but the buzz of the feeding blood-drinkers and gentle snores of their six, sleeping victims. As long as Sanca was awake, even her prone, infant form had too severe AC for the mosquitoes to break through.

Which only made her want to stay awake--at least for just a little longer. She used her style shifter’s Wild Shape to take the form of a bat. She slipped through the glassless window’s shutters and out into the burning solstice night.

Baguan was a large town halfway between the Seething Hills to the west and the sliver of Quain’s seaside to the south. Just beyond the bay to the Embaral Ocean--which separated Tian-Xia on the east and Casmaron to the west--was the southern country of Nagajor, motherland of the nagas. Where Sanca’s nagaji father hailed, if the whispers outside the birthing room were to be believed.

Whatever. She was happy to forget about him with the new, young parent and six older/younger siblings that’d been dropped into her lap. It would be a lot of work, but Sanca was unreasonably happy to have a family again. She promised herself she’d never leave them.

Not the way she’d left her first family. Zarishu, Xosha, Tanna. She...had been no better than her father on that count. 

No, never again. But she’d need all the help she could get with this much responsibility. So the bat flew southwest just until the farmlands turned wild, there at the foothills of the Seething Hills.

They landed, nude and barefoot, on the heated earth. They used A Thousand Faces to give themself an adult form--one identical to Ranshadan’s except for the eye color. It would be less shocking this way, hopefully, but they still wished the clothes hadn’t vanished from their inventory.

[Outside Contact activated]

The ground rumbled beneath Sanca’s soles. Jagged red lines cracked and broke the earth, cooking shimmering waves into the darkness. A serpentine figure rose, casting off cooked plates of earth with calculated bursts of the wicked, crimson flames of Hell.

Cruel horns framed the dragon’s head. Her long, undulating body glowed faintly with red, malicious heat. Sanca didn’t need aura sight to read the lawful, evil, and frightful presence radiating off this extraplanar, mature adult infernal dragon. This was absolutely NOT the help they were looking for.

“Few humans stand before me without giving in to fear,” the dragon hissed, smoke coiling out from her nostrils. Her coal-black eyes slit with hellfire-crimson regarded Sanca coolly. “Fewer still would dare to do so without a weapon or single piece of armor in sight.”

“Sorry,” said Sanca, massaging their brow. “This was a mistake--I was expecting another. I shouldn’t have called randomly like that.”

“Yet here we are. And I refused to be so easily dismissed after being conjured here right before closing on the greatest trade I’ve made in all 400 years. You will at least show me the courtesy of explaining yourself, or I’ll be forced to drag your soul down to Hell with me.”

A specialist they might be, the newborn Sanca was in no shape to tangle with a mature adult infernal dragon. And he actually wanted to be honest for once. Explain it was. “My name’s Sanca. I have a Reborn soul, specialist rank. And in my past life, my dearest friend was an outsider dragon-griffon. I thought I might meet her again. Lean on her again. Instead, I found you.”

“So you did,” said the Hell dragon, slowly. Ponderously. “But the random and chaos are the instruments of my Abyssal cousins. There is a meaning and a method to all my meetings. Let us stay in touch, Sanca of the specialist rank.”

“You really would really want such a thing with a mortal like me?”

“Even you couldn’t call yourself a ‘mere mortal,’” the dragon amusedly snorted smoke. “So yes, we WILL stay in touch. Besides, I’m a trader without compare. One day, you will undoubtedly have need of my services or wares.”

“You’ve undoubtedly got me there. What should I call you, then, Mistress Hell Merchant?”

She made a deep rumbling that sent more waves of shimmery heat into the night air. A laugh. “In Tian-Xia, I suppose you should call me Renjian Diyu.”

‘Hell on earth.’ How literally appropriate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hoxi Sanca, Tian-La ninja 1]  
> N medium Tien  
> Rank: specialist  
> Initiative: +20  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent, see invisibility, blindsense 60ft, blindsight 30ft, aura sight  
> Aura: absentia (5ft), enigmatic stare, veiled steps, trackless step, detection void, woodland stride
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 48 (defensive instinct, shadow blending, quickness)  
> HP: 24  
> Fortitude: +21 (warding talisman)  
> Reflex: +29 (warding talisman, quickness)  
> Will: +41 (towering ego, warding talisman)  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison, timeless body  
> DR: 40/-- (mind barrier)  
> SR: 30, energy shield (100 pts), globe of negation (10ft, 20 spell lvs)
> 
> [Offense]  
> Move: 30ft (fleet in shadows)  
> Melee: 3 shifter’s fury natural strikes +21/16/11/6/1 (4d6+Str/x3) (quickness)  
> Ranged:  
> Special melee: sneak attack +13d6, steal secret, transfer affliction, style mastery (panther, snake, tiger), legacy weapon  
> Special ranged: pain wave (20ft burst), necromantic focus
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: solipsism  
> At-will: share memory, object reading, chain of eyes, spatial switch, slip bonds, free in body, telekinesis, wild shape, a thousand faces  
> 1/week: outside contact (Renjian Diyu)
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 52  
> Dexterity: 51  
> Constitution: 42  
> Intelligence: 42  
> Wisdom: 42  
> Charisma: 50
> 
> Feats:
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Auran, Common, Draconic, Druidic, Giant, Kelish, Necril, Orvian, Sakvroth, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Undercommon, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Class abilities: Poison Use
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear:
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Questlines:
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	44. Mango Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing without a price, nor any gain without a cost

By the rule of new birth, neither Ranshadan nor their babe were allowed outside for one month. This was not, however, Sanca’s first time at the birthing rodeo, so he considered himself exempt from the traditional practice. 

Instead, he slept during the day and snuck away at night in animal guises to learn about his new hometown of Baguan. Like all large settlements he’d seen, there was a great class disparity. The wealthy gentry who owned the farmland lived on vast, sprawling estates outside the town proper.

Peasant farmers, Tian-Shus, worked the land but went into town to spend what little money they had. The Tian-Shu townies were primarily artisans and entertainers. The nagaji tended to be merchants, traveling north from Nagajor with Baguan as the first stop on their trade route--much like Yanmass and the Kelish.

The four martial arts clans of Baguan were something of a world apart. Without the military strength of Lingshen to the north or the spiritual power of Po Li to the East, Quain relied on its martial heroes for defense and glory. Thousands of practitioners were trained by its hundreds of different schools, clans, cults, temples, and houses--the majority of which viciously guarded their secrets.

Many of these martial arts heroes sought riches and glory as mercenaries or pathfinder equivalents. Others strove to prove the superiority of their school or even a specific style of personal combat. Some became vile and wicked villains. But all were considered defenders of the people and, in times of war, of the nation. 

The exact number of martial arts masters operating in Quain at any one time varied wildly, but the total was never less than several hundred. It was said that a mystic balance presided over by Quain’s reincarnating Celestial Dragon kept the total number of true masters at a static total of 1,000. Upsets and unexpected defeats of established masters were the natural adjustments to the number as new masters rose in power.

Baguan must have accounted for four of those thousand masters, because people from all over Quain and occasionally even other parts of Tian-Xia came to seek tutelage from the clans. Of course, one of the clans schooled its lucky entrants in the way of the ninja--the Sunshadow Clan. It was said to be on par with the Snakespear Clan, a nagaji-founded order whose iconic weapon was the naginata swordspear.

The two most powerful clans were the Blood Doctors and the Brood Wyrms, both of whom were said to combine martial arts with the arcane. And, of course, every one of Sanca’s older/younger siblings were completely enamored by one or all of Baguan’s martial clans. Their games in the Mango Gold courtyard, easily audible through the shanty walls and glassless windows of the brothel, always involved heroes of the clans.

Ju Chuzi, the eldest, was Tian-Shu. The next oldest was 10-year-old Akashi, a nagaji. They were followed by Chuzi’s step-sibling by blood, Ju Zhongxia, an 8-year-old. The 5-year-old nagaji Drisna came next. He was followed by Sun Taiyang, a 3-year-old Tian-Shu, and Mukta, the 2-year-old nagaji born before Sanca. All six of the children were more or less left to run wild until the age of 14.

That was when the boss of Mango Gold decided whether to turn the child out onto the street or train them to work at the brothel. Which gave Sanca two years to figure out how to help Chuzi (and ideally, Ranshadan as well) escape, possibly into one of the clans.

“The answer is simple,” said Diyu at the first of her weekly meetings with the dragon. “Money.”

“Well, yes, but it’s not that simple.”

Sanca had no qualms about stealing from the local nobility. What she did have qualms about was letting her little siblings get caught with gold or items after the theft. It was as good as a death sentence.

“Then I might have a mini-dungeon that would interest you. For a price, of course,” Diyu grinned toothily.

Of course. “What price?”

“50% of all treasure you retrieve.”

Sanca folded their still-bare arms over their chest. “What need does an infernal dragon have of earthly riches?”

“It has value to you, so it has value to me.” An evasive answer.

The fledgling ninja had no doubt Diyu was up to no good. Infernal dragons were known for recruiting large entourages of overly ambitious mortals who gladly debased themselves in exchange for power and influence. Wealth was a form of both.

“What would it cost me for a question?”

“Your soul.”

“Pfft. Forget it. Not interested. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Fine, fine, fine. A single question is free. Additional questions are not.”

“Is the Lair of the Four Winds Tortoise real?”

The smile vanished from the dragon’s maw. “Yes,” she answered through gritted fangs.

“That’s all I needed to know, thanks,” Sanca grinned as toothily as a dragon themself.

The Seething Hills were right there, so the Lair had to be in one of those caverns. The ninja spent the rest of the month sneaking around the fire-breathing dragonkin who’d taken up residence there in search of an entrance to the Lair. But flying to and fro the town ate up a much bigger chunk of their nightly hours than they’d accounted for.

If he wanted to get looting before Ranshadan had to return to work, he had to risk flubbing the check against a sleeping dragon’s spell resistance to use Steal Secret. He picked an adult underworld dragon as his guinea pig.

The serpentine, slumbering beast had skin the color of deep volcanic rock, enormous claws, and jagged, stone-like horns and scales. Dragon’s increased in strength with age, but Sanca couldn’t bring himself to fight and potentially have to kill such a noble, sentient creature mentally younger than himself.

It just wasn’t his night. The futsanglung awoke at the touch and instantly took mortal offense. Sanca was forced to kill the dragon to prevent waking the neighboring beasts and getting run out of the Seething Hills before his precious time was up.

[4 RPs have been deducted from your total]  
[Rogue gestalt class unlocked]  
[Level up: Rogue 3]

Oooh. Now that was an interesting twist. Rogue was an untrained class. Apparently, if he wanted to gain any levels in his specialist ninja class, he’d actually have to train under a master.

[Rogue abilities gained: Finesse Training, Trapfinding, Evasion, Danger Sense]  
[Sneak attack improved]  
[Rogue talent gained: Umbral Gear]

[Umbral Gear: As a standard action while in an area of shadow, a rogue can coalesce wisps of shadow into a quasi-real, functional item. Examples include: a crowbar, 50 feet of silk rope, a glass cutter, a light melee weapon, a reversible cloak, thieves’ tools, a wire saw, etc. The rogue can use such items for a number of 10 minutes per day plus rogue level.]

Umbral Gear had to be a holdover from her previous shadowy associations. A useful one--she needed thieves’ tools to disable any traps, locks, and other devices. And she’d just stolen the location of a mini-dungeon where she might use it.

Sanca turned her energy shield into fire resistance 100 and snuck, Fleet in Shadows, into the steam cavern. The mini-dungeon was a guardian-less treasure vault, but for good reason. Some creature had been storing treasure in the scalding waters of a deep, boiling subterranean lake. Few water-breathing creatures could also withstand such immense heat, which essentially nullified the need for monsters.

A vault had been carved into the lake’s bedrock. The ninja was only able to open the danged thing thanks to their umbral, unmeltable thieves’ tools. Inside was a massive pool of molten gold and precious gems that had once been held in jewelry or whatever other treasures these had been. 

With their current strength, the octopus-shaped ninja was able to scoop a maximum of 33,280lbs of molten gold into their inventory. Which was the equivalent of 532,480gp--not counting the value of the gems. Sanca left the rest.

On the evening of the 20th day of 7th Month, the heart of midsummer, and Ranshadan’s final day of birthrest, they paced restlessly behind their shuttered window. It hadn’t been easy being cooped up inside for an entire month, unable to wash their hair, but neither were they looking forward to their return to brothel work.

“But what choice do I have?” the twenty-year-old whispered over their babe’s sleeping head.

Then something unexpected happened. The infant grew warm against their shoulder. Impossibly warm and light as well.

Ranshadan held their child out in front of them. This was no stir-crazy hallucination. Sanca was not only radiating the warmth and light of a paper lantern in the darkness, but his form was shifting in his parent’s hands as well.

The Tian-La gasped in shock. Only some overwhelming parental instinct kept them from dropping the shifting babe as he took the form of a vermilion-feathered peacock made all the more majestic by a flaming fan of feathers. They shifted through the color spectrum but neither burned nor blinded his parent.

“F-firebird!” Ranshadan exclaimed in a tone so hushed as to be soundless. If any creature were--temporarily--to possess their child, there were few actually welcome to do so other than a sacred firebird.

Bringing figurative and literal light to all dark corners, the firebird was a legendary magical beast who appeared to those in desperate need of warmth and safety. A firebird primarily worked at night, where its abilities were most needed. The creature was said to be friendly to all other creatures, turning aggressive only when it witnessed an obviously evil act or in retaliation against someone who hunted it.

The magical beast gave a soft but merry chirp. And spat out a gold coin. Then another. And another.

In something out of a wuxia drama, Ranshadan spent all night catching the firebird’s coins to keep them from hitting the floorboards and drawing the attention of workers and customers alike. The magical beast deposited more wealth into that cramped little room than they had ever seen in their entire life. When it was finished, the radiance of the firebird departed from Sanca and the babe returned to normal.

With tears of hope and joy in their eyes, Ranshadan hugged their wide-eyed child close. They knew exactly how they had to spend the firebird’s gift.

At first light, Ranshadan marched into their boss’ office with Sanca in one arm and a heavy bag of coin in the other. “My child’s father and my future partner has asked me to place their bid for Mango Gold.”

“They--what?”

“They’re buying your brothel.”

“Ha! Yeah, sure, for a hundred thousand gp.”

Ranshadan tossed the bag onto their boss’ desk. It opened, hundreds of gold pieces spilling and rolling across the floor. The rest of the sum was heavy enough to keep the bag fixed on the desk.

Their boss gaped. For only a second. Before diving under the table to snatch up the coins. “Done! Done! Tell your coworkers to go f--k themselves because I’m outta here!”

Their coworkers were exhausted and resting around this time, so Ranshadan saved the news as their old boss high-tailed it out of there. In the meantime, they prepared twelve sacks of 30,000gp--one for each of the other workers here. They brought the sacks and the news once everyone had gathered for the daily brunch of rice porridge and yams.

“I’m the new owner of Mango Gold. I don’t know what we’re going to be, but those are your severance packages from our old boss--who, by the way, skipped town this morning. You’re free to stay or free to go--”

The workers didn’t even wait to finish their breakfast. They grabbed the bags of gold and ran out of there. Ranshadan couldn’t blame them. On the other hand, none of the other parents took the children...who they hadn’t exactly wanted in the first place.

The six children of Mango Gold, however, were utterly heartbroken. They burst into tears when Ranshadan brought them into the breakfast room to explain what had just happened. Those tears turned the new parent’s fiery will to steely resolve.

Ranshadan opened their arm and drew them all into a group, family hug. “I can never take the place of your parents, but from here on out, I WILL protect you as my own. That is my solemn vow.

“Chuzi, here, do you still dream of studying with one of the clans?”

“I--y-yes,” he managed through the tears.

“Which one?”

Chuzi, old enough to be realistic, named the clan with the lowest cost of scholarship. “S-Sunshadow.”

It was 100gp a month or 1,200gp a year. Ranshadan pulled stacks of 100gp from their pocket. They let the children watch, wide-eyed and quieting down, as they counted out 7,200gp--enough for a full, six-year course of study with the Sunshadows. Provided Chuzi had what it took to make it through the first, probational year of study.

“Ranshadan--I can’t--I can’t take that. It’s too much money,” Chuzi croaked, once more on the verge of tears. Though these were tears of incredulous, overflowing hope. 

In less than an hour, his world had crumbled to ash only to be rebuilt even stronger, brighter, and more promising. IF he could prove himself to the Sunshadows. And himself.

“Chuzi. Take it. The good fortune of the North Star shines upon us. We must not waste it.”

Chuzi’s hands curled to fists. He forced himself to stand up straight and raise his head. He wiped his eyes and nose on his forearm. “I won’t let you down, Ranshadan.”

“Just give it your best shot. If it works out, it was meant to be. If not, we’ll find another way. Together. As a family.”

The younger children burst into cheers. Only Chuzi and Ranshadan cried, but they laughed as well. It was time for a brand new start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hoxi Sanca, Tian-La gestalt ninja 1/rogue 3]  
> N medium Tien  
> Rank: specialist  
> Initiative: +20  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent, see invisibility, blindsense 60ft, blindsight 30ft, aura sight  
> Aura: absentia (5ft), enigmatic stare, veiled steps, trackless step, detection void, woodland stride
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 48 (defensive instinct, shadow blending, quickness)  
> HP: 24  
> Fortitude: +22 (warding talisman)  
> Reflex: +30 (warding talisman, quickness)  
> Will: +42 (towering ego, warding talisman)  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison, timeless body  
> DR: 40/-- (mind barrier)  
> SR: 30, energy shield (100 pts), globe of negation (10ft, 20 spell lvs)
> 
> [Offense]  
> Move: 30ft (fleet in shadows)  
> Melee: 3 shifter’s fury natural strikes +23/18/13/8/3 (4d6+Str/x3) (quickness)  
> Ranged:   
> Special melee: sneak attack +14d6, steal secret, transfer affliction, style mastery (panther, snake, tiger), legacy weapon  
> Special ranged: pain wave (20ft burst), necromantic focus
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: solipsism  
> At-will: share memory, object reading, chain of eyes, spatial switch, slip bonds, free in body, telekinesis, wild shape, a thousand faces  
> 1/week: outside contact (Renjian Diyu)
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 52  
> Dexterity: 51  
> Constitution: 42  
> Intelligence: 42  
> Wisdom: 42  
> Charisma: 50
> 
> Feats: Weapon Finesse
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Auran, Common, Draconic, Druidic, Giant, Kelish, Necril, Orvian, Sakvroth, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Undercommon, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Ninja abilities: Poison Use
> 
> Rogue abilities: Finesse Training, Trapfinding, Evasion, Danger Sense, Umbral Gear
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: gemstones
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Questlines:
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	45. A Visit from the Bat Man

Ranshadan closed Mango Gold to the public that very day. While Chuzi went to study with the Sunshadow Clan, they focused on being a parent to their babe and the five remaining children they’d adopted. The 10-year-old nagaji Akashi, now the eldest of the brood, did what they could to step into Chuzi’s shoes and help as the defacto nursemaid. 

It was an overwhelming job, but Ranshadan and Akashi could take it slow as they no longer had to worry about money. They had 65,280gp left over. Even if the price of giving this many children a good life, paying off the local gangsters’ protection fee, and paying the nobles’ taxes came to 300gp a month at Mango Gold, the new family could hold out for 18 years on the “firebird’s” gift.

Sanca helped out by getting his 8 hours of rest in the mornings and being preternaturally well-behaved--so much so that he got his own room at night just like the rest of the children. At which time, he flew out as a bat, then transformed into a stray cat to spy on the Sunshadow Clan.

Because they specialized in ninja arts, many of their classes and practices were held at night to accustom their students to working in darkness. The black cat with luminous gold eyes followed Chuzi’s class to observe the foundational aspects first. He was spotted almost every other night and became something of a mascot and good omen to the ninja hopefuls.

Those other nights, the bat would fly out of town to his and Diyu’s spot and practice the forms, meditations, and other exercises he’d witnessed. To the best of his ability. With xp left over from his encounter with the underworld dragon, he was actually able to level his ninja class to 2 by summer’s end.

[Ninja ability gained: Ki Pool]

[A ki pool contains ki points, supernatural energy a ninja can use to accomplish amazing feats. The number of points is equal to 1/2 ninja level + Cha. As long as you have at least 1 point, treat any Acrobatics skill check made to jump as if you had a running start.]

A ki pool! Sanca had telekinesis effectively with which to fly herself around even without wings, so she didn’t see herself needing to make any amazing jumps. But that wasn’t all she could do with her ki pool, even at low levels.

[By spending 1 point, a ninja can make one additional attack at highest attack bonus when making a full attack. In addition, you can spend 1 point to increase move speed by 20ft for 1 round. Finally, you can spend 1 point for a +4 insight bonus on Stealth checks for 1 round. Each of these powers is activated as a swift action. A ninja can gain additional powers from certain ninja tricks.]

And Sanca had just witnessed her first ninja trick from Sunshadow--

[Ninja trick gained: Pressure Points]

[A ninja with this trick can strike at an opponent's vital pressure points, causing weakness and intense pain. Whenever the ninja deals sneak attack damage, you also deal 1 point of Strength or Dexterity damage. Unlike normal ability damage, this damage can be healed by a DC 15 Heal check. Each successful check heals 1 point of damage caused by this trick. A ninja with this trick receives a +10 insight bonus on this Heal check.]

Pressure point striking! It was exciting enough to make Sanca want to get into a fight--which, as she’d learned from ninja class, was the mark of a green and immature fighter. But still!

[Feat earned: Two-Weapon Fighting]  
[Feat earned: Double Slice]

It was a system encouragement to the specialist to use her Finesse Training. When using Weapon Finesse to hit with her Natural Strikes, she used her Dex for damage instead of Str. Double Slice gave her the Str damage bonus on top of the Dex.

Despite Sanca’s current adult-form body, they screamed like any infant in exhilaration. Oh yes, they were green. But that was a natural part of life. Why not enjoy it?

“I’m just itching for a fight,” they spilled to Diyu, rubbing their bare arms restless.

“Then fight. But you might want to bear my personal motto in mind: if you’re good at something, never do it for free.”

Yeah, no, that was never going to be Sanca’s motto. But the dragon might’ve been onto something. People fought for coin all the time while others often betted on them. As they recalled, Anatu had once trained to be a part of the underground fighting world.

Here in Quain, the idea of an “underground” display of martial prowess was laughable. Fighting competitions and duals were not only common but 100% legal, no matter the fatality for participants. What wasn’t legal was destroying property or striking down innocent bystanders.

Sanca’s problem was, even if they used nonlethal force, enough of it could STILL prove fatal. Even the eager combatants of Quain agreed that challenging someone obviously weaker than oneself was reprehensible and not to be tolerated by proud and true warriors.

“Boohoo,” said the dragon. “If only there was someone who knew the perfect dungeon for you.”

The ninja let out a long, weary sigh. “What’s your price?”

“You recently found a dungeon in the Seething Hills all by your lonesome, did you not? One with far more treasure than a powerful but single individual could possibly carry. Did you not?”

“Yes,” he answered through gritted teeth, knowing exactly what Diyu was about to ask of him.

“I want the rest of it.”

“The rest?! That’s more than 50% of the total haul!”

“You passed on my dungeon the first time. I had no choice but to raise the price to cover mending expenses to my wounded ego.”

“Just--let me think about it, ok?”

“Very well. But don’t take too long, or I may have to tip off the dungeon to a whole adventuring party.”

That danged dragon. Ruse or not, Sanca was determined to consider this carefully. Besides, he was certain Diyu knew plenty of other dungeons. So the fledgling ninja summoned his willpower and set about patiently practicing the Sunshadow arts with Chuzi’s class.

The dry season of southern Quain’s spring and summer turned to the rainy season that would last through fall and winter. At six months, his baby body was finally developed enough to crawl. By that time, Ranshadan and their children were comfortable enough in their new life that their adoptive parent decided to introduce a new element.

Growing up in Shaguang, Ranshadan had never learned to read, write, or had any other formal education. But they believed it was important for their own and their children’s futures. So they dipped into their savings to pay for a tutor to teach Akashi, Zhonxia, and themself while Drisna, Taiyang, Mukta, and Sanca played in sight in the courtyard.

The tutor, Master Cai Shijiao, had once been one of the many eunuch ministers who ran the bureaucracy under Quain’s King Wen. He’d retired here in Baguan for a year-long escape from the cold. He usually tutored the children of the nobles, but he was quite pleased to see that the locals were interested in education as well.

His local price was 3gp an hour. Ranshadan purchased 10 hours a week (not including Master Cai’s interminable homework assignments), to be split into two-hour lessons over five days. It was 30gp a week or about 120gp per month. Which brought their total monthly payment to 420gp.

It was a hefty sum. Enough to draw the notice of both their neighbors and slumlord gangsters. As much as Ranshadan tried to quell the rumors with claims of a rich and powerful martial artist lover, neither were convinced--especially not the gangsters.

When the gangsters came to collect the next month, they threw in a free ransacking of the entire building. Ranshadan could do nothing but stand in the courtyard, holding their crying children and holding back their own furious tears. The gangsters, of course, found their stash of loot and took all the gold with them.

Ranshadan was beyond devastated. They held it together for the sake of their children, but in their soul, they despaired. They had no coin. They barely had a roof over their heads. They had only enough food to last them to the end of the week.

That night, no one could sleep. All the children crawled onto Ranshadan’s floor mat. The young parent held them, blinking hard at the ceiling. In their soul, they prayed to the firebird for aid.

In a way, she was listening. Sanca, the only one who remained in her wrecked room, flew as a bat to the gangsters’ temple headquarters. Using her Solipsism’s greater invisibility, she shifted into adult form. Umbral Gear allowed her to craft a mask and robes from the dark tapestry of night itself--which, as a gestalt rogue 3, would last her a grand total of 13 minutes.

Tales of that night entered the wuxia legends of Baguan. According to the survivors, a human masked and shrouded in darkness itself kicked down the doors of the temple gate and roared in challenge, “FIGHT ME!”

The gangsters were more than happy to oblige, shooting at the intruder with their crossbows. The bolts glanced off harmlessly--those few that actually found their mark. As soon as they put their fingers to the triggers, the intruder sprang into action, gear and body blending into shadow.

No one wielding a weapon was exempt from the intruder’s challenge--which was every gangster on the premises. The shadowy figure used styles practiced by certain schools of monks--unarmed strikes of the panther, tiger, and snake. Though they struck with nonlethal force, only three of the gangsters withstood the combined strength and precision of their attacks. The rest were felled in a single flurry of blows.

All the gangsters were unconscious or dead by the final second of Sanca’s 13-minute time limit. The denuded but uninjured ninja breathed a sigh of relief. They used Telekinesis to float over the bodies to the temple. They retrieved only the money that the gangsters had taken from Ranshadan--including the protection payments over the past few months. The rest, they left for whatever scavengers would find the gangsters in the morning.

Sanca flew back to Mango Gold as a bat. They deposited the sack of coin against the central tree of the courtyard and returned to their room to investigate their level up notifications.

[Level up: Rogue 4]  
[Reward earned: +1 ability score]  
[Rogue abilities learned: Debilitating Injury, Uncanny Dodge]  
[Debilitating Injury: Whenever a rogue deals sneak attack damage to a foe, they can also debilitate the target of their attack, causing it to take a penalty for 1 round (this is in addition to other penalties). The rogue can choose to apply any one of the following penalties:

Bewildered: The target becomes bewildered, taking a –2 penalty to AC. The target takes an additional –2 penalty to AC against all attacks made by the rogue.

Disoriented: The target takes a –2 penalty on attack rolls. In addition, the target takes an additional –2 penalty on all attack rolls it makes against the rogue.

Hampered: All of the target’s speeds are reduced by half (to a minimum of 5 feet). In addition, the target cannot take a 5-foot step.]

[Rogue talent learned: Surprise Attack]  
[Surprise Attack: During the surprise round, a rogue with this ability always considers opponents flat-footed, even if they have already acted. A rogue with this ability adds 1/2 rogue level to sneak attack damage rolls made during the surprise round.]

The abilities were excellent. But there was no escaping the fact that Sanca would never be able to see their effects unless he found truly challenging enemies. Like the kind populating Diyu’s ever-more tantalizing dungeon offer.

On a side note, he was surprised to find that he hadn’t been able to level up his primary ninja class despite about six months of training. It suggested that studying with the Sunshadows would provide knowledge for 3-4 levels a year. 

It made sense then that if a ninja student rose through their ranks at a steady pace, six years was exactly the amount of time needed to reach the pinnacle of the clan’s knowledge. Both Chuzi and, secretly, Sanca, could potentially come out at the end of those six years as a level 20, master ninja. 

The Reborn specialist would, however, need combat experience as well. Sanca shut her golden-brown, infant eyes. There was no way around it. She had to inspect the infernal dragon’s dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hoxi Sanca, Tian-La ninja 2/rogue 4]  
> N medium Tien  
> Rank: specialist  
> Initiative: +20  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent, see invisibility, blindsense 60ft, blindsight 30ft, aura sight  
> Aura: absentia (5ft), enigmatic stare, veiled steps, trackless step, detection void, woodland stride
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 49 (defensive instinct, shadow blending, quickness)  
> HP: 96  
> Fortitude: +22 (warding talisman)  
> Reflex: +32 (warding talisman, quickness)  
> Will: +42 (towering ego, warding talisman)  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison, timeless body  
> DR: 40/-- (mind barrier)  
> SR: 30, energy shield (100 pts), globe of negation (10ft, 20 spell lvs)
> 
> [Offense]  
> Move: 30ft (fleet in shadows)  
> Melee: 3 shifter’s fury natural strikes +24/19/14/9/4 (4d6+Dex+Str/x3) (quickness)  
> Ranged:   
> Special melee: sneak attack +14d6 (plus -1 Str/Dex), steal secret, transfer affliction, style mastery (panther, snake, tiger), legacy weapon  
> Special ranged: pain wave (20ft burst), necromantic focus
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: solipsism  
> At-will: share memory, object reading, chain of eyes, spatial switch, slip bonds, free in body, telekinesis, wild shape, a thousand faces  
> 1/week: outside contact (Renjian Diyu)
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 52  
> Dexterity: 51  
> Constitution: 42  
> Intelligence: 42  
> Wisdom: 42  
> Charisma: 50
> 
> Feats: Weapon Finesse, Two-Weapon Fighting, Double Slice
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Auran, Common, Draconic, Druidic, Giant, Kelish, Necril, Orvian, Sakvroth, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Undercommon, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Ninja abilities: Poison Use, Ki Pool, Pressure Points
> 
> Rogue abilities: Finesse Training (natural strike), Trapfinding, Evasion, Danger Sense, Umbral Gear, Debilitating Injury, Uncanny Dodge, Surprise Attack
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: gemstones
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Questlines:
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	46. The Trial of the Boar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sanca gets him/her/themself a first birthday present

The mysterious stranger’s attack on the gangsters’ temple headquarters sent a clear message throughout the slums--mess with the single parent and children of Mango Gold and be prepared to pay the ultimate price. It also solidified Ranshadan’s claims of their martial artist partner and benefactor despite no one having actually seen said individual. Needless to say, none of the other gangsters sought to include Mango Gold in their protection rackets after that.

Ranshadan paid local artisans 1000gp to repair and renovate the decrepit old Mango Gold brothel into a sturdy dwelling suitable for themself and all seven of their children--if Chuzi needed a place to stay after he finished studying with Sunshadow. Not counting the gangsters' temples, it was the nicest, happiest building in the slums. Which signalled to the street children, the poor, and the needy to come to Ranshadan for aid.

They never gave away any amounts so large as to draw suspicion from the nobles and their tax collectors, but neither could Ranshadan turn anyone in need away empty-handed. It was just the right thing to do. It also meant that the “firebird’s” loot wasn’t going to last anywhere close to 18 years.

Sanca still had the gemstones, but unlike the gold, his inventory couldn’t convert that into coin. And a flawless gemstone entering Baguan’s market would absolutely draw attention. He had no choice--he’d have to go back to the Seething Hills vault.

So he might as well pay the dragon’s price while he was at it. A week before his first birthday, Sanca returned to the boiling, subterranean lake. The pool of molten gold was exactly as he’d left it. His fire-resistant, octopus arms scooped all that he could carry into his inventory--depleting the pool to one last third.

The ninja deposited the haul at Diyu’s black-clawed feet. “Tell me about the dungeon.”

The infernal dragon’s maw split into a wide, toothy grin. She blew a cloud of smoke from her nostrils over the gold. The loot vanished with the dissipating cloud.

“They call it the Inverted Tower.” For good reason--the dungeon was a tower of black stone that spiraled downward into the earth. Everything in it was upside down from foundation-less floor to the peaks of its buried roof.

It was built not far north of Baguan, but was hidden from most by the mystical forces surrounding it. The veil between worlds was thin there, and the dragon had no doubt that the tower had followed its first, successful champion from its world into theirs.

“Who was the champion?” asked Sanca, riveted by the tale despite herself.

“I don’t know,” said Diyu. “They were always alluded to as the ‘Mysterious Warrior’ or ‘Dark Warrior.’ Perhaps you’ll learn more IF you can defeat the Zodiac Trials.”

There were 12 levels of the tower dungeon, one for each animal of the zodiac. It was impossible to progress through the dungeon without defeating the trial of one’s current level.

“What if one of those groups you sent before me already defeated a trial?”

The dragon shook her head. “This is a legendary dungeon. It resets for each person or group who enters and recalls their progress--truly an otherworldly artifact.”

“That’s fascinating. And I take it the Inverted Tower never overruns?”

“Never.”

Most likely due to the dungeon’s apparent sentience. Sanca was hooked. The next night, they fast traveled to the new site on their map.

Sure enough, the dungeon’s occluding field had no effect on the specialist. They stood in awe and curiosity outside the massive, open-aired bottom floor of the black-stone tower. Curiosity won out, and Sanca floated over the tower doors.

[Dungeon entered: The Inverted Tower]  
[Trial of Boar begun]

Sanca had learned from Master Cai’s lessons that the boar’s natural element was water and its season was winter. Which was undoubtedly why the ninja found themself in the extreme, potentially fatal cold of a howling blizzard.

They turned their energy shield to cold resistance 100 and hastily dropped down to floor level before the windstorm blew them into an ice-coated wall. The ice coated everything and came with an unnatural, bluish glow.

Over a dozen of small, four-armed humanoids armored in dense, bony plates burst out of the chamber’s snow banks in attack. They were chardas, only 4ft tall but nearly 300lbs of muscle and shell. They were not only immune to the cold but took power from it.

They weren’t, however, immune to Sanca’s sneak attacks. The ninja brought down the charda tribe. Using Solipsism’s greater invisibility, they ventured deeper into the dungeon.

Pale white mushrooms grew in profusion along the walls of the next room. The undead frost wights hidden in the snowdrifts might’ve been fooled by Sanca’s invisibility, but the tripedal, human-sized carnivorous plants within were not. The frost phantom fungi attacked, turning invisible themselves.

The pack of frost wights joined in. The undead were not only immune to Sanca’s sneak attacks, but every time that he hit them with a natural strike, he was hit back with cold damage--thank the North Star for that energy shield.

They were the guardians of the chamber beyond, where a bewildering array of crystals and metallic tracery were embedded in the walls. A low humming noise filled the air, and the crystals flashed with incomprehensible colored lights at irregular intervals. Six animated clusters of translucent crystals shaped like 3ft gemstone scorpions scuttled about the room.

The crysmals did not attack. Instead, they appeared to be performing some kind of task using the crystals and otherworldly machinery.

Sanca reached a hand toward one of the flashing crystals. The crysmals froze. Each head and spiked tail turned toward the invisible ninja in warning.

Yes, he wanted to use Object Reading to figure out what the Hells was happening here. But he also didn’t want to start a needless fight with the bystanding caretakers of the chamber. Sanca lowered his hand.

He floated through the inverted doorway into the back chamber. Four stone platforms jutted from the walls 50ft above the floor. Six large crystals were embedded in the walls below them, glowing with blue radiance. Floating just above the floor, a massive sphere of blue light filled the room with its dazzling light. 

Bolts of crackling electricity joined the crystals with the ball of energy. A howling gale swept upward from the sphere, thunder rumbling in its icy vortex. It was a sphere of constructed storm.

The entire chamber was warded with an unhallow spell and an invisibility purge so powerful that it blasted away Sanca’s greater invisibility. Outing the ninja to the room’s occupants at the inverted, crystal control panels.

There was a remorhaz, an immense centipede-like beast with rows of chitinous plates on its back glowing red-hot--enough to blast anyone attacking with unarmed strikes or natural weapons with 8d6 pts of fire damage. It was surrounded by unhallow-empowered hoar spirits, undead spirits of those who had frozen to death.

Their boss and commander, however, was clearly the half-fiend slyph flying behind them on blue-black wings. Her blue skin was marked with white whorls, her midnight hair drifting like wisps of storm clouds. From her neck dangled a three-fingered bone hand rendered in black ice. It was the unholy symbol of Sithhud, a nascent demon lord of blizzards and the frozen dead.

“Kill the intruder!” she hissed, casting forth lightning at the floating nude person.

The magical lightning, Sanca just ignored. No, the only thing here she was really worried about was that remorhaz taking more than one hit to kill. So she laid into that 10,000-lb centipede first, putting as much strength and damage as she could muster into a single hit.

Time slowed. Sanca was blasted with heat. And the remorhaz was still kicking. In that split second, blistered and burning in pain, the ninja realized that this was her one and only shot to bring down the beast. Using all her natural strikes might kill her with heat, but the boss cleric was only seconds away from healing the enormous centipede--and sealing Sanca's fated death.

With a roar of desperate hope, the ninja struck again and again. The skin blistered and peeled from her muscles under the searing heat. Sanca screamed in pain.

As did the remorhaz. Their opponent’s body fell into the vortex. Lightning exploded through the room. Everyone who wasn’t fast enough or resistant enough was thundered and blasted out of existence. Leaving only the sylph and the near-dead ninja.

“Try dodging this!” The cleric unleashed the black wave burst of her negative channeled energy. It was, as she’d threatened, undodgeable.

With Sanca’s formidable Will, they took only half damage. They couldn’t afford another. The burned, smoking ninja set their golden-brown glare on the half-fiend boss. “My turn.”

They unleashed the fury of their natural strikes. The sylph fell into the manufactured storm vortex just like her insectoid ally. Lightning exploded out once more.

But there was no notification about clearing the dungeon. Neither had Sanca received any level ups despite defeating multiple enemies and now two powerful boss creatures.

Because defeating the boss wasn’t the real Trial of the Boar. Their eyes fixed on the maelstrom of ice howling below the six, lightning-producing crystals. Lightning was not an element of the boar. It was a disruption to the balance here.

The wounded ninja set their jaw. Trusting their hearty Constitution to save against the cold for a few minutes, they switched their energy shield to electricity resistance. And attacked the first crystal.

It was immensely sturdy, but it broke under Sanca’s barrage of natural strikes in less than a minute--a good thing, because each save against the extreme cold became gradually but increasingly difficult. The last crystal shattered with an explosion of lightning.

Below, the sphere of storm imploded on itself in a thunderous burst. Dwindling into nothing and silence.

[Trial of the Boar cleared]

[4 RPs have been deducted from your total]  
[Gestalt class added: Serpent-Fire Adept]  
[Serpent-Fire Adept ability gained: Flurry of Blows]

[At 1st level, an adept can make a flurry of blows as a full-attack action. When making a flurry of blows, the adept can make one additional attack at their highest base attack bonus. This additional attack stacks with the bonus attacks from haste and other similar effects.]

Nice! That gave the ninja a total of four natural strikes.

[Level up: Serpent-Fire Adept 2]  
[Serpent-Fire ability gained: Chakra Training]

Chakra training? What was--

[Awakening chakras and maintaining awakened chakras is a swift action that costs 1 ki pt. On the first round, this opens the root chakra. Each round after the first, it opens the next unlocked chakra in the sequence. 

Once the initiate has begun awakening chakras, each round they must continue opening chakras or maintain his awakened chakras, or all of his chakras close and they must begin again from the root chakra. If they pause in the progression, they can resume it at any time, provided they spent 1 ki point per round to maintain their open chakras. 

Each round, when expending the ki for that round, the initiate can select the benefit from one chakra awakened up to that point. To open a chakra, the initiate’s level must equal at least double the chakra’s rank.

Manipulation of the serpent-fire involves considerable risk. Every round in which the initiate has awakened chakras, they must succeed at Fortitude and Will saving throws, adding Cha to each save, to resist the inherent dangers of the kundalini flow as it suffuses their body with spiritual fire. 

If the initiate fails the Fortitude save, they take 1d6 points of damage per awakened chakra. If the initiate fails the Will save, they are overcome with visions associated with the awakened chakras, causing them to be dazed for 1 round and all of their chakras to close.]

So this serpent-fire was kinda like some kind of inner, spiritual fire that had to do with these chakras. Thanks to Sanca’s immense saves, it didn’t seem likely he’d ever actually fail either save--one less thing to worry about.

[Root Chakra (DC 11): The root chakra is associated with instinct, security, survival, and potential for greater development. It energizes the desires of the flesh and distributes ki throughout the blood to circulate heat to the body. Kundalini energy is sometimes depicted as a serpent coiled around the root chakra, ready to ascend on a path from the body’s lower, basic urges and instincts to the heights of a disciplined and enlightened mind.

By awakening the root chakra, the initiate opens themself to an inflow of serpent-fire energy. The bloom of occult power strengthens their aura, granting them DR/—- equal to the number of chakras opened for 1 round.]

Not really something Sanca needed with his occultist Mind Barrier granting him DR 40/--, but he’d need to open this root chakra anyway if he wanted to check out the rest of the chakras.

[Serpent-Fire ability improved: Chakra Training]  
[At 2nd level, the serpent-fire adept gains a bonus equal to 1/2 level on Fortitude and Will saves to maintain awakened chakras.]

Even less risk of failure--he wouldn’t sneer at it.

[Level up: Ninja 4]  
[Reward earned: +1 to one ability score]  
[Uncanny Dodge improved]

[Ninja trick learned: Ki Block]  
[A ninja with this trick can prevent a creature from using its ki pool. Whenever the ninja deals sneak attack damage, the target must make a Will save or be unable to spend any points from its ki pool for a number of rounds equal to the ninja's Cha. The DC of this save is 10 + 1/2 level + the ninja's Cha.]

Another excellent passive debuff to tack onto her increasingly deadly Sneak Attack.

[Feats earned: Power Attack, Combat Reflexes, Combat Expertise]

This first level of the dungeon had no loot to offer, but that was fine. The serpent-fire adept gestalt class would no doubt prove to be easily worth any treasure. Even if it turned out to be a bust, Sanca had still managed to level her main class to the maximum of this year’s training.

The door to the second, lower level of the dungeon ground open from the floor beneath the vanished storm sphere. But Sanca, burned and blasted within an inch of her life, had enough for now.

She went back through the dungeon to eat the human-sized, frost phantom fungi. Full, healed, and exhausted, she fast-travelled back to her crib to take a well-earned rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hoxi Sanca, Tian-La ninja 4/rogue 4/serpent-fire adept 2]  
> N medium Tien  
> Rank: specialist  
> Initiative: +20  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent, see invisibility, blindsense 60ft, blindsight 30ft, aura sight  
> Aura: absentia (5ft), enigmatic stare, veiled steps, trackless step, detection void, woodland stride
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 49 (defensive instinct, shadow blending, quickness)  
> HP: 96  
> Fortitude: +24 (warding talisman)  
> Reflex: +32 (warding talisman, quickness)  
> Will: +42 (towering ego, warding talisman)  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison, timeless body  
> DR: 40/-- (mind barrier)  
> SR: 30, energy shield (100 pts), globe of negation (10ft, 20 spell lvs)
> 
> [Offense]  
> Move: 30ft (fleet in shadows)  
> Melee: 4 shifter’s fury natural strikes +24/19/14/9/4 (4d6+Dex+Str/x3) (quickness)  
> Ranged:   
> Special melee: sneak attack +14d6 (plus -1 Str/Dex), steal secret, transfer affliction, style mastery (panther, snake, tiger), legacy weapon  
> Special ranged: pain wave (20ft burst), necromantic focus
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: solipsism  
> At-will: share memory, object reading, chain of eyes, spatial switch, slip bonds, free in body, telekinesis, wild shape, a thousand faces  
> 1/week: outside contact (Renjian Diyu)
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 52  
> Dexterity: 51  
> Constitution: 43  
> Intelligence: 42  
> Wisdom: 42  
> Charisma: 50
> 
> Feats: Weapon Finesse, Two-Weapon Fighting, Double Slice, Power Attack, Combat Reflexes, Combat Expertise
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Auran, Common, Draconic, Druidic, Giant, Kelish, Necril, Orvian, Sakvroth, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Undercommon, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Ninja abilities: Poison Use, Ki Pool, Pressure Points, Improved Uncanny Dodge, Ki Block
> 
> Rogue abilities: Finesse Training (natural strike), Trapfinding, Evasion, Danger Sense, Umbral Gear, Debilitating Injury, Surprise Attack
> 
> Serpent-Fire Adept abilities: Flurry of Blows, Chakra Training
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: gemstones
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Questlines:
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	47. The Firebird Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sanca also makes Renjian Diyu an interesting offer

1-year-old Sanca decided not to return to the Inverted Tower of the Dark/Mysterious Warrior until he’d finished his Sunshadow Clan training with Chuzi for the next year. That way, he wouldn’t waste the monster-slaying xp on his untrained rogue class and have to go purchase some new dungeon from the infernal dragon. It didn’t hurt that this way he’d also be able to take time and distance away from the Zodiac Trial that could easily have ended his specialist life.

No, the only dungeon he planned on visiting and later visited was the Seething Hills vault. He picked up the last of the molten gold and gemstones. The gold, his inventory converted to coin, and he placed into Randashan’s hidden stash. 

The gemstones, Sanca just had to hold onto for now. That brought him to a total of 40 precious gemstones, each one easily worth 10,000gp. He kept his eyes and ears open for any opportunity where they might be of use.

He was a cat at the time, observing the goings-on in the Sunshadow Clan compound. It was time for the first years to be tested. Chuzi, now 13 years old, nervously talked and chatted with the two good friends he’d made.

They were the only two of the 30 first years who were in his age group. Everyone else was older, which was partly why the three had been drawn together in the first place.

Tang Kushu was a Tian-Shu native of Baguan. Her/their parents were local artisans. They weren’t rich, but they’d saved for years to buy Kushu the chance to train with a martial arts clan.

Genki was a shapeshifting kitsune from the larger city of Nanzhu. His/their parents wanted them to study martial arts or any other career path there in the big city along the Golden River, but they had their heart set on becoming the greatest ninja in southern Quain. Which meant heading further in the southern heat here in Baguan to study with the Sunshadows.

The test to continue their studies with the clan had three parts. First was the written exam. Then the individual exam. Then the team exam. Both the written and individual exams took place on the compound, testing specific skills.

The team exam took place out in the rocky wilds just before the Seething Hills. All teams competed against each other to capture the others’ flag. The competition lasted for days, the remaining teams forced to camp out there in the wilderness until there was a single winning team.

Chuzi’s team wasn’t among the first five sent back to the compound. But they didn’t last much longer against the teams of stronger, more experienced teens and young adults. The problem was, Chuzi and Kushu had both failed the written exam.

They’d both studied hard and learned to read and write in their first year at Sunshadow. They just did so very slowly compared to the other students. 

When it came to the individual exam, Chuzi had excelled in every category--skills, pressure points, ki blocking, weapon use, etc. Kushu had shown skill and promise, but had also given in to her nerves under pressure. For a ninja, such a tendency would prove fatal.

So Chuzi and Genki passed and were permitted into the Sunshadow Clan. Kushu was not.

Instead of returning home, she fled back to the testing grounds. There she could cry and sob and scream in peace. She was heartbroken--furious at herself, devastated by the failure, and absolutely terrified of what would happen now that she'd lost her parents' hard-earned coin. Would they even take her back?

There in the darkness and depths of her despair, a warmth and light suddenly radiated from the branches of the tree above. Kushu raised her tear-stained face. 

"F-firebird!" they gasped.

Sure enough, the small, sacred peacock of vermilion feathers and flame fluttered down to the rock across from them. In its beak were two emeralds, glowing in its friendly luminescence. The bird tossed them at the failed ninja.

Kushu caught them. And nearly dropped them anyway after getting a good look. Even an eye as green as theirs could tell that these lustrous gems were extremely valuable--perhaps even flawless. So they gears of their mind began to turn once more, hope kindling in their chest.

"Thank you, firebird, thank you. You saved my life," Kushu croaked.

The mysterious bird gave a soft, merry chirp and flew off into the night, vanishing into the darkness. Kushu rose to their feet, emeralds in hand. They turned their head back toward Baguan. 

They had a second lease on life. They were not going to waste it.

Kushu returned to the town, but did not go back to the Sunshadow Clan compound. How could they believe in those who could not believe in them? No, they went instead to the Blood Doctors, as money was no longer a problem.

Off-duty teachers greeted them at the gate. A few students in an open-screened classroom looking on in idle interest. Sanca watched from her inverted perch as a bat in the tree branches.

“I’m here to study,” said Kushu.

“We admit all as potential students for a year, but all six years of training must be paid--”

They held out the emeralds, glimmering even in the moonlight. 

The teachers crowded in for a suspect inspection. Kushu was clearly not of noble birth. The emeralds could possibly be heirlooms, but for someone applying to join the Blood Doctors, thievery was a common source of tuition funds.

“Where did you get these?”

“A firebird gave them to me.”

The teachers shared a glance. The most senior of their number smiled, nodded, and accepted the emeralds. “A firebird, hmmm? A most auspicious encounter marks an auspicious start. Come, follow me to the first-year’s class. You start tonight.”

Kushu’s face broke into a teary-eyed grin. “Thank you, thank you, masters.”

The senior teacher passed the emeralds onto another with a directive--to make an inquest into all recent thefts in Baguan and surrounding grounds. Such a theft would by no means prevent the new student’s placement among the Blood Doctors. So long as she passed the exam at the end of the year.

Meanwhile, Sanca snuck into the Blood Doctors’ compound as a lizard. Their knowledge of the clan was limited to what they’d heard from their siblings at play and Akashi’s terrifying martial tales whenever Ranshadan was out of earshot. So, nothing factual.

They discovered the truth by using Steal Secret on those sleeping. And it left them with a lot of mixed feelings.

The Blood Doctors were arcane assassins. They practiced the alchemical arts of vivisection and internal chemistry. The real kicker was that they venerated Who-Walks-in-Blood, the colossal red mantis who served as the divine assassin of the gods.

Back in Nidal, Astrag had claimed that Zon-Kuthon was the creator of the Mantis God. While there were multiple rival claims by the churches of Asmodeus, Norgorber, Lamashtu, Rovagug, Gorum, Pharasma, and Calistria, all agreed that Who-Walks-in-Blood was lawful evil in alignment. Just like Zon-Kuthon and the Nidalese. Just like the Blood Doctors.

“I could’ve told you that,” laughed Diyu. “I could even give you the Mantis God’s true name--for a price.”

“That’s not the issue. Kushu’s a young, impressionable student. Did I maybe just set her down a path we’re both going to regret?”

“Everyone has to make their own mistakes. How else would they learn?”

The infernal dragon had an infernal point. Still, Sanca promised himself he’d keep the occasional tab on Kushu to mitigate any innocent collateral damage--if it came to that. Maybe Diyu was onto something about trusting Chuzi’s friend. On the other hand--

“Sanca.”

He shook his head, refocusing on the dragon. “Yes, sorry, what were you saying?”

“Even the gods aren’t responsible for the actions of their followers.”

Yeah, no, not even a little true. Any kind of leader worth their salt was very much responsible. “Which god of yours taught you that?”

“Mammon.”

Mammon, archdevil of avarice, watchfulness, and wealth. The Argent Prince was Hell’s accountant and treasurer, ruler of Erebus, the third plane of Hell. He’d been Ecchar’s god, too, in the long-lost time of Sanca’s first remembered life.

“So, do you come from Erebus?”

“You could say that.”

“What’s it like?”

“Lightless.”

No sickly sun or dying stars glared down upon the catacombs of Erebus. Vaulted ceilings rising dozens of stories high replaced the heavens. Their unseen stones dripped chill condensation and reeking seepage from on high. 

Huge blocks of gray stone comprised the entire layer. Even the most able burrowers found only endless expanses of the dense rock when other chambers should lie just beyond. Pillars as thick and towering as the Material Plane’s most massive trees filled halls with chiseled forests, their surfaces covered in grotesque sculptures of the still, patient hamatualas and barbazus that guarded the layer’s treasures. 

Sewer-like channels wound through Erebus, channeling the filth of Dis above. Kingly ransoms littered the floor even in the most revolting of these passages. In greater halls laid treasures whose splendor could blind the onlooker if but a spark was cast upon their glory. Great barriers of stone and iron, hungry beasts, and dark magic protected the layer’s greatest storerooms, forcing even the infernal elite to carry dozens of keys and talismans with them as they traveled the plane.

“If there’s so much wealth in Erebus, why are you here collecting more?” asked Sanca.

“There’s always plenty, but there’s never enough,” replied Diyu. “Surely you human can understand.”

Maybe she would have before being Reborn, but Rebirth had completely changed her outlook on almost every aspect of her life. Material goods had lost value to her, personally. After all, she couldn’t take them with her AND she could get everything she needed for survival off a fallen monster.

“Diyu?”

“Sanca?”

“Would you like to be Reborn?”

“What?”

“You know, like me. Things are different after Rebirth. I know you said yours is a god of watchfulness, but wouldn’t you like to see with your own eyes? Experience it with your own self?”

“I--I don’t think I could--my soul is already beholden--how could you offer me this? So freely? Aren’t these RP seeds the most precious thing in your possession? Aren’t you hoarding them?”

“It’s more like I just want to be careful about the kind of people I offer them to. They change your life completely, and there’s really no way of ever going back until you reach your natural end.”

“And what exactly kind of people do you offer them to?”

“Promise you won’t take this the wrong way.”

“Fine. I little-claw-swear on Mammon’s open palm.”

“I want to give them to the kind of people who maybe need a second chance.”

The infernal dragon snorted smoke and fire with deep, rumbling laughter. “So you’re offering me Rebirth, and you were afraid of giving that Kushu child a couple of emeralds?”

Well, when she put it like that--Sanca’s shoulders began to shake. They threw their head back in laughter. They had to laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. But my offer was and is serious, Diyu.”

The infernal dragon went very, very quiet. For a while she made no noise, only the heated smoke that coiled from her nostrils. “I need time to think about it.”

Sanca was more than happy to give her outsider contact as much time as she wanted. It was good simply to know that Diyu was thinking about it--a new way of life outside servitude to Hell. Meanwhile, she continued her ninja studies from observation of Chuzi.

During meditation, she practiced using her ki to awaken and maintain an open root chakra. No, there was no combat benefit to doing so due to her immensely formidable mental barrier, but the Dark Warrior’s Inverted Tower seemed to recommend this cultivation. She didn’t want to be caught without it when she entered the dungeon toward the end of her first year.

Back home at Mango Gold, Ranshadan, Akashi, and Zhongxia continued their schooling under Master Cai. Drisna, Taiyang, Mukta, and herself still played in the courtyard during this time--or another room with the screen wall opened.

Three-year-old Mukta particularly liked to play with Sanca. Not only was the baby “cute,” but it gave her the chance to be the big kid for once. Besides, as Drisna and Taiyang grew older and rowdier, they left her behind in their games.

Sanca was sometimes amused, sometimes annoyed, but there was nothing they could do except waddle to Ranshadan in class when they’d had enough. But, they also understand that this was an important part of familial bonding. They often wondered if they’d been like Mukta to Xosha and Tanna so many years ago in the future. 

No, better not to think of a future that had been irreversibly altered.


	48. Trial of the Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sanca declares war

Diyu was still pondering whether or not to take Sanca up on the RP offer by the time that his summer solstice birthday neared. As was becoming his tradition, the ninja-in-training returned to the Inverted Tower to tackle the next level of the dungeon. He floated down through the opening of the floor--and up through the crystal clear, azure waters of a desert oasis.

[Trial of the Dog begun]

Sanca looked around in confusion. The world had righted itself. Or perhaps a demiplane had. Because there was a blazing sun and open skies overhead. The oasis was ringed by the green life of shrubs and trees. He smiled and laughed in incredulous wonder.

There was a tiny flash from a dune a mile out from the oasis. The ground rumbled and split with tremors--a signal. Out burst a 30ft-long, reddish-brown and mottled yellow death worm. Its multi-partitioned mouth was huge and lined with diamond-hard teeth that broke rocks and earth as it burrowed underground. A 30ft-line of acid spewed at Sanca.

Thanks to his rogue Evasion, the spray missed him entirely. He brought down his attackers’ pet in a single, 4-strike flurry of blows. He turned his head toward the direction of the flash. It was replaced by a growing cloud of dust. Sanca shifted into invisibility and floated down to meet his enemies. 

It was an army of gnoll warriors and spellcasters, their hyena war-dogs, and giant, two-headed, ettin bruisers. They clashed halfway between the dunes and the oasis, in the ruins of a stone shrine. The sightless eyes of the jackal-headed statues and crumbling sphinx were all the witness the army received to its inglorious demise.

At the battle’s end, darkness had fallen upon the demiplane. Time was clearly operating differently here, but Sanca wasn’t comfortable spending the night. Randashan, Hells, his entire family would notice the baby missing in the morning. He especially didn’t want to put that on their parent.

But defeating the army hadn't cleared the dog trial. According to Diyu, the dungeon would save her progress. However, if the only save points were the major milestones of actually clearing a trial, then this entire level of the tower would be reset upon her exit.

Sanca grumbled but there was no way around it. She had to find out the dungeon's save point method. Sanca left the dungeon.

Only an hour had passed outside despite the demiplane's sun moving 6-8 hours worth in the sky. Even so, Sanca wasn't feeling up to tackling that army all over again--if it came to that. She went home to rest and return the next night.

Fortunately, she did. Because she had to fight the army all over again. The battle went quicker this time since she knew what was coming--it ended at dusk and again, without a clearance notification.

Sanca, covered in blood and filth, shifted into a hyena war-dog. She made her way to the dune where the signal flash had occurred. Just beyond it was a village of gnolls. With a growing sense of horror, she spotted only the young and the elderly.

The ninja had wiped out every one of the gnoll villagers from their late teens into middle age. One of the younger gnolls spotted her in battle-weary hyena form.

“A hyena’s back! Is it over? Is the battle over?”

The village elders sent a group of stealthier young gnolls out toward the oasis to scout. Sanca stayed with the elders, Stealing Secrets from the ones who absently ruffled her fur.

The gnolls attacked her at the oasis because they were expecting an invading force of alien creatures from Leng, the Nightmare Realm. A single being who wiped out their entire body of warriors? Not a far cry from something that would come out of there.

Sanca realized at once that they absolutely had to reset this trial. After one more investigation. 

While the elders talked in low, worried voices, they snuck away and into greater invisibility. Sanca shifted from hyena to bat and flew back to the oasis. They waited there in the darkness.

They guessed it was midnight by time of the first ripple in the water--a large, gentle, soundless circle. The very tip of a mast and sail split the waters, followed by a second and third. Rising from the oasis, water pouring down its sides, was a black, three-masted sailing vessel. On its side, written in Aklo, was its name: The Sunset.

Its crew was concealed in yellow robes, but the way that the dampened fabric clung to their forms left no mistake--these were denizens of Leng. They had horned heads, tentacled and spider-like mouths. Their fingers were clawed, and their back-bent legs ended in hooves.

Sanca didn’t stick around to watch them descend on the defenseless village. They dived right back into the water and flew back home. It was only thanks to the game system that they were able to get any sleep.

The next night, they started the Trial of the Dog for the third time. This go-around, Sanca shifted into their giant octopus form. Their big, cephalopod head broke through the surface of the oasis.

That triggered the shift from door-in-the-floor to demiplane. Water was suddenly there, supporting their suspended tentacles. Sanca stayed there, in the oasis, waiting as patiently as a dog for its owner to come home. Just like a dog, they took several naps to help pass the demiplane’s time.

The octopus only went on alert before midnight. Sure enough, there was the ripple. It was followed by the masts breaking the water under him.

Sanca didn’t wait. He immediately wrapped his tentacles around a mast and snapped it in two. There were cries of alarm from the surfaced deck below. He didn’t stop, floating to the next mast to snap that one two.

Nearby, the ground rumbled and split with a tremor. Out surged the death worm, spewing acid onto the deck. The attack had begun.

Both worm, gnolls, hyenas, and ettins noted the giant octopus. As he was tearing the denizens of Leng limb-from-limb, however, they decided against attacking him. In fact, with the octopus on their side, the battle was swiftly decided in the gnolls’ favor.

As soon as the last denizen of Leng fell, the octopus yeeted himself off the sinking Sunset and back into the oasis. Dozens of gnolls went to the rail to look for their curious animal ally. But the waters, black with night, had hidden all from sight.

[Trial of the Dog cleared]  
[Level up: Serpent-Fire Adept 4]  
[Level up: Ninja 8]

Oh, interesting. He hadn’t received any xp from the failed trials.

[Reward earned: +2 to ability scores]

Those, he put into Constitution with the last point. It was high time he buffed up his Fortitude--the better to deal with any necromancer’s terrifyingly effective save-or-die spells.

[Feats earned: Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack]

[Sacral chakra unlocked]  
[The sacral chakra is closely associated with the generative power of the reproductive cycle, as well as pleasure, addiction, creativity, emotional needs, and relationships. When the sacral chakra is awakened, the adept recalls moments of sensual or creative ecstasy, when consciousness slips from the physical body into astral realms of weightless bliss. When opened, the sacral chakra gleams with sunlike radiance.

By awakening your sacral chakra, the initiate gains a fly speed equal to base movement for 1 round.]

Not as powerful as Telekinesis, but potentially faster when in shadow. Like a mesmerist trick, it wasn't bad to have up her ninja sleeve.

[Serpent-Fire ability gained: Light Spirit]

[Light Spirit: The adept maintains this fly speed for a number of rounds equal to your Wis bonus, even if you close your chakras.]

[Serpent-Fire Adept base speed increased by 10ft]  
[Sneak Attack, Improved Uncanny Dodge improved]  
[Ninja ability gained: Light Steps]

[Light Steps: A ninja learns to move while barely touching the surface underneath them. As a full-round action, you can move up to twice your speed, ignoring difficult terrain. 

While moving in this way, any surface will support you, no matter how much weight you carry. This allows you to move across water, lava, or even the thinnest tree branches. 

When moving in this way, you do not take damage from surfaces or hazards that react to being touched, such as lava or caltrops. Nor does the ninja need to make Acrobatics checks to avoid falling on slippery or rough surfaces. You ignore any mechanical traps that use a location-based trigger.]

Ooo, very interesting. That could come in handy if Sanca ever needed to lure some monster into a trap.

[Ninja tricks learned: Flurry of Stars, Shadow Clone]

Flurry of Stars let them ki charge and throw extra shuriken--they couldn't wait to get their hands on those to try. They'd have to get some money, of course, and disguise themself to make the purchase.

Shadow Clone allowed them to hide their location between 1d4 duplicates plus one per 3 levels. Not a bad way to get a surrounding group of enemies off their back, especially with such a high AC. And as the enemies in the dungeon became stronger, anything that lessened the chance of a critical--which hit regardless of AC--was good news.

Sanca went home, all the new abilities they'd mastered or learned dancing in their mind. The Flurry of Stars trick especially. They needed coin, but they didn't want to dip into Ranshadan's stash despite having bolstered it--their parent was doing great work in their slum neighborhood keeping everyone afloat.

No, what Sanca needed...was another dungeon. Not long after their second birthday, they went to their local dungeon informant, Diyu. The infernal dragon agreed to spill the tea on a nearby dungeon after the ninja agreed to paying half of any loot retrieved.

“Are you familiar with Baguan’s noble houses?” asked Diyu.

They knew the basics. Baguan’s land was owned by three different noble families--House Yixi, who owned the westside districts and farmland, House Zuo, who owned the east, and House Nanfang, who owned the south. Everyone paid taxes to one of the houses (and usually to the local gangsters as well). Mango Gold’s side of the slums contractually belonged to House Nanfang.

“The dungeon entrance is beneath House Zuo’s estate grounds and continues westward beneath the Seething Hills,” said the infernal dragon.

“This isn’t House Zuo’s personal vault, is it?”

“I don’t rightly know,” the dragon smiled toothily.

“So they’re definitely going to notice when anything I loot from there gets onto the market.”

“Not if it’s coin.”

“That means my only hope of keeping a low profile is handing everything but the coin over to you,” Sanca grumbled.

The infernal dragon’s grin only grew toothier. “Trust me, there’s plenty of coin.”

That, he believed. But knowing Diyu, there’d be even more of ‘other’ loot, so he’d be forced to hand over more than 50%. And that wasn’t even the biggest issue.

Sanca had zero qualms about stealing from absurdly wealthy nobles and their unfairly gotten gains. However, wiping out their personal vault like that would doubtlessly put House Zuo on alert and possibly on the warpath. And he’d be doing it for what, spare change to buy shuriken?

That didn’t seem like a good enough reason. If he wanted to wipe out that vault, he had to be committed to something bigger. Like taking down all the noble houses. Freeing Baguan and the peasants from their stranglehold on the town’s prosperity.

Yes, everyone needed to be paying taxes, but they should be going to the town instead of the nobles’ and gangsters’ pockets. And he’d have to prevent the gangsters from rising up to take the nobles’ place. What he needed--what Baguan needed--was a more equitable governing system ready to go as soon as the nobles fell.

Sanca dug in her heels in resolution. She needed to find or create a populist resistance movement. And she would be their guardian and financial patron. Now THAT seemed like a worthy use of her growing powers and a genuine reason to break into the Zuo vault.

“Alright. Gimme a couple months.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hoxi Sanca, Tian-La ninja 8/rogue 4/serpent-fire adept 4]  
> N medium Tien  
> Rank: specialist  
> Initiative: +20  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent, see invisibility, blindsense 60ft, blindsight 30ft, aura sight  
> Aura: absentia (5ft), enigmatic stare, veiled steps, trackless step, detection void, woodland stride
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 50 (defensive instinct, shadow blending, quickness, dodge)  
> HP: 200  
> Fortitude: +26 (warding talisman)  
> Reflex: +34 (warding talisman, quickness)  
> Will: +42 (towering ego, warding talisman)  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison, timeless body  
> DR: 40/-- (mind barrier)  
> SR: 30, energy shield (100 pts), globe of negation (10ft, 20 spell lvs)
> 
> [Offense]  
> Move: 40ft (fleet in shadows)  
> Melee: 4 shifter’s fury natural strikes +27/22/17/12/7/2 (4d6+Dex+Str/x3) (quickness)  
> Ranged:   
> Special melee: sneak attack +16d6, steal secret, transfer affliction, style mastery (panther, snake, tiger), legacy weapon  
> Special ranged: pain wave (20ft burst), necromantic focus
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: solipsism  
> At-will: share memory, object reading, chain of eyes, spatial switch, slip bonds, free in body, telekinesis, wild shape, a thousand faces  
> 1/week: outside contact (Renjian Diyu)
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 52  
> Dexterity: 51  
> Constitution: 45  
> Intelligence: 42  
> Wisdom: 42  
> Charisma: 50
> 
> Feats: Weapon Finesse, Two-Weapon Fighting, Double Slice, Power Attack, Combat Reflexes, Combat Expertise, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Auran, Common, Draconic, Druidic, Giant, Kelish, Necril, Orvian, Sakvroth, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Undercommon, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Ninja abilities: Poison Use, Ki Pool, Pressure Points, Improved Uncanny Dodge, Ki Block, Light Steps, Flurry of Stars, Shadow Clone
> 
> Rogue abilities: Finesse Training (natural strike), Trapfinding, Evasion, Danger Sense, Umbral Gear, Debilitating Injury, Surprise Attack
> 
> Serpent-Fire Adept abilities: Flurry of Blows, Chakra Training, Light Spirit
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: 38 gemstones
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Questlines:
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	49. A Complication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sanca plays it by heart

The summer and Sanca's second year began with a farewell to Akashi. His second eldest sibling had turned 12, so Ranshadan gave the young nagaji a choice--continue studying at Mango Gold with Master Cai, or pick a clan from whom to study martial arts.

Akashi, full of youthful vigor, chose to leave. They were not, however, so young as to have forgotten the poverty and hardship their family had so recently escaped. They felt guilty asking for any money at all, much less a large sum. So they chose the Snakespear Clan, whose tuition fee was much less than the top two Baguan clans.

With Ju Chuzi still away with the Sunshadows, Akashi's departure made 10-year-old Ju Zhongxia the resident head child. Unlike their elder brother, Zhongxia was a mischievous, fun-loving scamp. When they weren't studying, they were sure to be leading Drisna and Taiyang into trouble outside the fully renovated walls of Mango Gold.

Ranshadan, now 22, permitted it so long as Zhongxia and Drisna kept up their studies. For one thing, half the slums had received money from them--they knew Ranshadan's children and wouldn't let them come to any serious harm. For another, the young Tian-La whole-heartedly believed that small risks, dares, and troubles were essential to a child's growth. They themself had been exposed to more than their fair share of dangers wandering in the desert with their tribe.

Though Sanca somehow doubted Ranshadan would be pleased to learn that their two-year-old was making dangerous forays into the world. Because he’d eventually need to meet with fellow rebels in person, the first thing he needed to acquire were adult-sized clothes. Ranshadan would absolutely notice if theirs went missing, so the ninja-in-training decided to steal from someone who (1) wouldn’t notice, and (2) deserved it.

Since he’d be taking from House Zuo’s underground vault soon enough, he figured he might as well go through their attic storage as well. One summer night, he flew over as a bat and then snuck inside as a harmless, inconspicuous lizard. Even the servants who spotted him didn’t bother stopping the little reptile’s crawl--after all, lizards ate the even peskier insects.

The attic storage was a goldmine. Treasures easily worth a lifetime’s fortune had been haphazardly stowed away in crates and locked chests. The waste, the hoarding, was infuriating. 

Sanca found a rod of splendor, belt of physical perfection, a headband of mental superiority, a keen body wrap of mighty strikes, a cloak of the diplomat, and boots of teleportation. Each of the magic artifacts was extremely costly. Even the least expensive, the cloak of the diplomat, was worth 20,000gp.

Except for the platinum-buckled belt and gemstone-ornamented headband, however, the other clothing items appeared or could be made to appear quite ordinary at a passing glance. It was their magic aura that gave them away. But Sanca’s inconspicuous aura of absentia and detection void was even stronger--overpowering the object’s auras and allowing her to pass without notice. As for the belt and headband, after she’d worn them for 24 hours, she’d be able to pass them on to a fellow rebel for training.

The items raised her stats to the highest they’d ever been and almost all her ability scores just over halfway to 100. And with her increased hp, she finally felt confident about being able to handle both whatever was in the vault of House Zuo and the rest of the trials in the Inverted Tower. But first--to find her fellow rebels!

[A few days later]

It was the last call for drinks at the Steam Hole, one of the seedier bars in Baguan. Mitsuki, the crow-like, middle-aged tengu barkeep, finished pouring the last orders and began helping the stragglers wake up and stagger out. Only after they’d locked the door did they notice one final figure leaning against a wooden post in the flickering shadows.

It was a fox-headed kitsune with golden brown fur and eyes--one the tengu definitely would’ve remembered serving. They had the look of an out-of-towner, and not just because of their high-quality, greenish-black traveling robes, light gray boots, and forest green cloak. The body wrap beneath the sleeveless robes suggested they were also a martial artist.

“We’re closed,” said Mitsuki as gruffly as they could. The retired pathfinder was all bark these days, but there was something about this shady kitsune that made them doubt they could’ve taken them even in their prime.

“I wouldn’t have come otherwise,” they answered with a fox-faced smile.

“Who are you? What do you want? I’ve already paid my dues,” the barkeep mentioned, just in case this was the local gangsters’ newest enforcer.

“Call me Hoshi. I’m here to help you with something you want.”

The tengu placed their clawed hands on their hips, feathered arms garrulously akimbo. “And what would that be, exactly?”

“The liberation of your hometown from the heavy hand of its nobles and gangsters.”

Their gleaming black eyes widened. They’d never spoken of their deepest grievance with Baguan to anyone.

The kitsune raised a finger to their muzzle, their pointed-tooth smile fearfully all-knowing. “Fear not, Mx. Mitsuki. Baguan is my hometown as well. We both want what is best for it. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“That--that depends,” said the barkeep, as gruffly as they could muster. “I assume you came here with some ill-conceived plot between those triangle ears of yours.”

“You catch on fast--good. Here’s my plot--” Hoshi flung his arms out from his cloak. The tengu’s beak hung agape as a rain of precious gemstones, a platinum-buckled belt, and an ornate headband clattered onto the Steam Hole’s nearest stained table. “To put it verbally, I’m not a plotter. I’m a patron, financially and in arms. You, however, have ideas and connections to Baguan-born martial artists who’ve left for other, more equitable cities in Quain.”

“Holy sword of storms,” croaked Mitsuki, invoking Hei Feng, the chaotic patron deity of tengus. They hadn’t seen that much treasure since their adventuring days, and never in the hands of a single pathfinder.

“There’s more where that came from. I’m poised to strike at the finances of House Zuo, you see? I await only your astute judgment of the timing.”

“H-how--how big is this ‘strike?’”

“I’m going to wipe out their entire vault.”

Pretty big, then. An unequivocal declaration of war, really. Better yet, with no signs of rebellious sentiment in town, House Zuo would have to assume the attack was perpetrated by one or both of the other noble houses. They were sure to deal grievous, maybe irreparable damage to each other. In the meantime, Mitsuki could call their martial artist contacts back to Baguan to help foment a true rebellion movement among the townies and peasant farmers.

“If you can do it, do it now,” said the tengu, “--but wait! You aren’t doing this alone, are you?”

Hoshi raised a single finger to his smiling muzzle. Then vanished without a trace.

Mitsuki swallowed shakily. Dangerous. That kitsune was without a doubt the most dangerous person they’d ever met. But they were on the barkeep’s side, on Baguan’s side. And that kindled within the tengu a spark of wild hope.

As for Sanca, she made time between her sleepy daylight life and nighttime ninja training to infiltrate the huge, expansive grounds of the Zuo Estate. The entrance of the dungeon was warded with both a mirage and a repulsion effect. But she immediately picked up the powerful spells with her aura sight--and they weren’t nearly powerful enough to turn her away.

The ninja used A Thousand Faces to take the shape of one of the young Tian-Shu nobles she’d seen in the manor house. The rod of splendor, she used to fabricate appropriately fine noble robes. The fake noble passed through both spells toward large, stone-carved doors blocking the mouth of a vine-shrouded cavern.

The doors were magically locked to anyone without the key of House Zuo carried only by its most trusted nobles. Sanca, however, was rogue with umbral thieves’ tools. She could disable even magical locks and could make them appear untouched to boot. Which was exactly what she did.

[Dungeon entered: Vault of Zuo]

The doors opened to a long, curving hall of stone that made a leisurely descent beneath the surface of the earth. The further the tunnel wound toward the Seething Hills, the hotter and more sweltering the sweating walls became. Sanca turned her energy shield to resist 100 fire--just in time. 

Gouts of scalding steam spouted into the tunnel from all directions. At random, hissing intervals. Above, lines of light crafted by etching continual flame spells into the ceiling kept the hall from plunging into chthonic darkness. Below, her boots tread soundlessly over a growing layer of simmering water. 

She wondered if she’d eventually have to go underwater at some point. That didn’t seem like something the nobles would suffer, but--nope, there was a door. Only the bottom, knee-height length of it was submerged, so there was no need to deactivate her Light Steps.

Instead, Sanca simply crouched down to conjure their umbral tools and unlock the door. It opened into a rounded stone room lined with metal shelves stocked with coffers. A large, stone desk stood in the center of the room along with four stone chairs. The room tilted downward, the water level rising as the floor sunk.

Hunched behind the desk was a giant, behemoth of a humanoid. Though he appeared to be a massive statue of onyx and enchanted gold, he was actually a marut inevitable. Inevitables were construct-like outsiders created by inhabitants of Axis, a lawful neutral plane in the Outer Sphere that took shape as the incomprehensibly immense Eternal City.

There was a grinding sound as the marut slowly raised his gold-crested head. “Mas-ter-ix Ou-lan. How may I serve?”

“Quick question--are you the master of our vault?”

“No, mas-ter-ix.”

“Then who IS the master?”

“Mas-ter-ix Ao-bei.”

“Would you mind taking me to them, then?”

The marut ground up to his full 12ft height. Then froze like an awkwardly poised statue. “The way is un-der see-thing wa-ter. You will die. I will call Mas-ter-ix Ao-bei to the front desk in-stead.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

The marut hunched back down to a seat and pressed a button under the desk. The two waited in silence--Sanca doing his best to avoid looking at the awkward, statue-like giant. It seemed impolite somehow when the big, poor guy was frozen.

One short, uncomfortable eternity later, Masterix Aobei teleported into the reception chamber, accompanied by his/her/their entourage of clockwork mages--faceless humanoid constructs with four arms and a glowing crystal wand in its chest. The 7ft constructs of mithral and steel were the pinnacle of clockwork inventions. An ingenious combination of mechanical devices and magical conduits allowed clockwork mages to channel the power of their wands into various arcane powers. They often served as unflinching and unquestioning casters to those who wanted the benefit of spells without ego or free thought.

Or to cast spells unimpeded by boiling water. Though this particular masterix probably valued them for both. Aobei was a lich. But unlike any lich Sanca could have imagined.

They were still covered in flesh--discolored bluish-gray flesh. But it gave the tall, undead Tian-Shu a regal, imposing, and almost attractive bearing. They wore their dark, dripping hair long and free to their mid-back. Their equally sodden robes were of the finest quality--and permitted open in a deep, contemptuous V down their chest.

Their eyes met. In that second, Sanca realized two things. First, the lich was somehow extremely his type. Second, he didn’t want to kill them.

But the undead boss’ eyes, black but simmering with an inner fire, went straight to Sanca’s boots. Standing atop the surface of the simmering water. Their eyes narrowed--unlike the lumbering marut, the lich had to be suspicious why a member of the noble house was displaying the skills of a common ninja.

So Sanca did what he had to do, even if it only had a 50% chance of working on an intelligent undead.

[Necromantic Focus activated]

Aobei grunted under the force of the occult power. He doubled over, gripping his sides as though sick--impossible for an undead. “Wh-who are you?” he growled through clenched teeth.

The constructs stood stock-still, however. He couldn’t command them to attack. Because Sanca’s undead domination had worked.

“This is Mas-ter-ix Ou-lan,” the marut explained, unhelpfully.

“You don’t say,” the lich continued growling as he laboriously straightened up.

“How about you and I take a walk, Masterix Aobei?” said the ninja.

“The mas-ter-ix is for-bid-den from lea-ving the vault,” said the marut.

“We’ll walk inside then,” said Sanca.

“The way is un-der see-thing wa-ter. You will die.”

“Not with Aobei and this lovely squad of clockworks here to protect me. Right, Aobei?”

“Right,” he growled, still attempting to fight her control. And failing.

Righty-o.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hoxi “Hoshi” Sanca, Tian-La ninja 8/rogue 4/serpent-fire adept 4]  
> N medium Tien  
> Rank: specialist  
> Initiative: +24  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent, see invisibility, blindsense 60ft, blindsight 30ft, aura sight  
> Aura: absentia (5ft), enigmatic stare, veiled steps, trackless step, detection void, woodland stride
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 56 (defensive instinct, shadow blending, quickness, dodge)  
> HP: 232  
> Fortitude: +30 (warding talisman)  
> Reflex: +37 (warding talisman, quickness)  
> Will: +50 (towering ego, warding talisman)  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison, timeless body  
> DR: 40/-- (mind barrier)  
> SR: 30, energy shield (100 pts), globe of negation (10ft, 20 spell lvs)
> 
> [Offense]  
> Move: 40ft (fleet in shadows)  
> Melee: 4 shifter’s fury natural strikes +30/25/20/15/10/5 +4 (4d6+4+Dex+Str/19-20x3) (quickness)  
> Ranged:   
> Special melee: sneak attack +16d6, steal secret, transfer affliction, style mastery (panther, snake, tiger), legacy weapon  
> Special ranged: pain wave (20ft burst), necromantic focus
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: solipsism  
> At-will: share memory, object reading, chain of eyes, spatial switch, slip bonds, free in body, telekinesis, wild shape, a thousand faces  
> 1/week: outside contact (Renjian Diyu)
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 58  
> Dexterity: 58  
> Constitution: 53  
> Intelligence: 48  
> Wisdom: 48  
> Charisma: 60
> 
> Feats: Weapon Finesse, Two-Weapon Fighting, Double Slice, Power Attack, Combat Reflexes, Combat Expertise, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Auran, Common, Draconic, Druidic, Giant, Kelish, Necril, Orvian, Sakvroth, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Undercommon, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Ninja abilities: Poison Use, Ki Pool, Pressure Points, Improved Uncanny Dodge, Ki Block, Light Steps, Flurry of Stars, Shadow Clone
> 
> Rogue abilities: Finesse Training (natural strike), Trapfinding, Evasion, Danger Sense, Umbral Gear, Debilitating Injury, Surprise Attack
> 
> Serpent-Fire Adept abilities: Flurry of Blows, Chakra Training, Light Spirit
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: 38 gemstones, rod of splendor, belt of physical perfection, headband of mental superiority, body wrap of mighty strikes (keen), cloak of the diplomat, boots of teleportation
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Questlines:
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	50. Retribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonds forged in blood

Aobei had no choice but to command one of his clockwork mages to cast a spell of air bubble over the head of this stranger wearing Zuo Oulan’s shape. He was soon to find that was the least terrifying thing about them. 

The lich wizard touched the doors at the back of the front office with the hand bearing the noble house’s signet ring. The stone slid aside to reveal the staircase descending into the boiling water. Aobei’s ring protected him as he went down first--his duty as undead-dominated guide.

The stranger had no such ring, so they must’ve been wearing a fire resisting item or were under a warding spell against it. Yet they gave off no aura of magic whatsoever. In fact, they moved so silently and with a supernatural stillness that didn’t disturb the water that they seemed to be less of a ninja and more of a living ghost.

“Who are you really?” asked Aobei once the doors had slid shut behind the last of his clockwork crew.

“Call me Hoshi--just a second.” They ducked into the first storage chamber.

Aobei supposed he could’ve warned this ‘Hoshi’--definitely a fake name--that the room was guarded by a floor-to-wall-to-ceiling covering of carnivorous crystals, elemental oozes from the Plane of Earth that laid shining and dormant until touched by flesh and blood. Out of which they summarily leached out the minerals. He peered through the doorway instead.

A single, unarmed strike from Hoshi not only pierced through the crystals’ significant damage resistance. That fleeting, pinpointed touch was enough to completely shatter them. Their monk-like movements were completely unaffected by the weight of the surrounding water--as though also under a freedom of movement spell. And in less than a minute, all six elementals were nothing but crystal shards floating in the storage room.

“Level ups already, how about that?” Hoshi muttered to themself, floating obliviously in the center of the crystal carnage. They seemed to be motioning with their hands, but in no spell-casting movements that Aobei had ever seen. “Spell-likes?”

“Who are you talking to?”

The stranger snapped back to attention. Blushing? “Nothing. I’m gonna start looting now. Just a sec, then we can get back to that tour.”

Indeed, the thief cleaned out the storage room as fast as they’d defeated the crystals. They swam out sprightly and smiling.

“Tell me about yourself, Aobei. What’s your story?”

It wasn’t like she could refuse the one who’d enspelled her. So she began at the beginning. “My name’s Qing Aobei, and I’m not from around here.”

Aobei hailed from Lingshen, the Successor State north of Quain and south of Shaguang. It claimed to be the mightiest of Lung Wa’s Successor States and not without reasons. Lingshen controlled the largest armies of all Tian-Xia. Because its soldiers never ceased to serve.

After the fall of the Lung Wa Empire, the first of the State’s Huang Dynasty made a deal with the Underworld Dragon, counterpart of Quain’s Celestial Dragon. Upon the death of a soldier, the royal wizards were enabled to recall their spirit into a clay simulacra. When this terra-cotta body was destroyed, the spirit could simply be recalled into another.

“Mindless reincarnation,” Hoshi muttered darkly.

“Quite,” Aobei agreed. “Yet for all Lingshen’s necromancy, lichdom is frowned upon.”

“Why? That doesn’t make any sense. Isn’t that basically the same thing?”

“It isn’t. Because a lich retains their full mental capacity and cannot be commanded so easily.” Unless that commander was whatever terrifying outlier Hoshi was.

Aobei was one of the royal wizards, a spell sage. Like Hoshi, he foolishly believed that lichdom and the eternal ‘life’ of the country’s enslaved soldiers would be accepted as the same. They were not.

The Huang monarch and all of his royal wizard peers were furious when they discovered how Aobei had debased his body. They decided to have him killed and sent contingent after contingent of clay soldiers after him. The spell sage was forced to fake his death with a simulacra of his own.

He fled to Quain, fully intending to continue south through Nagajor and from there into the untamed wilds of the Valashmai Jungle to continue his arcane studies in peace. But he had an encounter with a group of Quain’s martial heroes. There was no tolerance for unlife here in the southern state.

Aobei slew the heroes before they slew him, but in the fray, he lost his phylactery on the battleground. It was found, of course, by the ancestor of House Zuo. The rest was history.

His tale was broken up by short stops at each chamber of the vault. He watched in silent and morbid fascination as Hoshi tore an ethereal banshee to shreds, took down a squadron of aquatic shining children, ripped the sludgy hearts out of a pair of omox demons, and destroyed a squadron of advanced, greater shadows with particular, almost personal viciousness. The clockworks they encountered, they spared.

Because Aobei’s four clockwork creatures were unerringly loyal to their maker. There was his lionfish clockwork familiar Baozang, the huge clockwork nautiloid Xuanxuan, the gargantuan clockwork kraken Daocha, and the colossal clockwork leviathan Jingyu. None but the lionfish could leave the chambers that they guarded, but they kept the peace thanks to the wizard’s presence. Though he had very little doubt that Hoshi could destroy every one of them. Except for maybe Jingyu. Maybe.

As impossible as it seemed, the stranger appeared to grow stronger after every encounter in which they killed their enemy. As though they were absorbing their qi or power or something.

“That sucks, Aobei. You don’t happen to know where House Zuo is keeping your phylactery, do you?”

“If I knew, I’d have left for Valashmai decades ago.”

“You’re a spell sage, so you can cast discern location, right?”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried that?”

“That was before I was there to help you.”

“Wh-why--why would you help me?”

Fake Oulan’s pale face flushed bright pink. Hoshi quickly shook the color away. “Once House Zuo discovers you ‘allowed’ an intruder to wipe out their vault, they’re definitely going to destroy your phylactery. So if you want to live, let me help you cast this thing.”

“Fine.” It was worth a shot. “Give me your hand.”

Aobei readied the spell and closed her eyes. Power, sheer, unimaginable power flowed from the stranger’s palm into the lich’s. Whatever voiding effect House Zuo had placed over her phylactery shattered as easily as the carnivorous crystals under Hoshi’s pinpoint strikes.

The vial of her blood was in a demiplane whose concealed entrance was in the northern part of the estate--an endless, tropical forest of immense, rune-inscribed trees that far predated House Zuo’s claim to the land. The place was timeless, its powerful inhabitants neither aging nor needing to eat and drink. The catch was that none of these ancient, ageless beings owed any loyalty to the nobles--making it a perfect place to hold precious treasures hostage but a terrible refuge.

“--Give me an hour. I’ll be right back,” said Hoshi.

“Has the water finally boiled your brains? Or did you not just see my phylactery in the lair of a great wyrm imperial forest dragon?”

The colossal, serpentine dragon with jade scales and buck-like antlers had reached the final and most powerful age category any dragon could attain. Sure it was sleeping now, but the supreme being had finely attuned senses. A single hit from its breath weapon was enough to turn most foes to petrified rock.

“Very majestic, yes. I won’t kill it--promise.” With that, Hoshi clicked their heels and teleported from the vault.

The spell sage shared a glance with her 8 clockwork mages and lionfish familiar. She shrugged and teleported the lot of them back to the front desk. The marut Daku was frozen at his hunched, eternal post just as usual. 

Aobei noted almost absently that Hoshi’s absence had lifted the undead domination off her. If she wanted, she could alert the nobles to the intruder who’d just cleaned them out. But after having seen the stranger in action, the lich had the strangest, tiniest hope that they stood a chance of retrieving her phylactery.

An hour past. Then a second. Ah. So the great wyrm really had proved too much for--

“Please tell me this is it,” said Hoshi, warping in with a little vial of blood in hand. “The dragon’s awake now, so I REALLY would rather not go back.”

“That’s the one,” said Aobei, his voice hushed and slightly shaken. The lich opened his hand, in slow, wondering disbelief. “I--thank you.”

“Heh heh, don’t mention it,” said the blushing stranger, bashfully rubbing the back of their neck. “I guess this means you’re off to the jungle?”

The spell sage shook his head with a small, grim smile on his lips. “Not just yet. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve seen any of the Zuos. And we have business to discuss.”

“You can see Mas-ter-ix Ou-lan,” said Daku.

Fake Oulan blew out a sigh. Unlike the marut, they could see exactly where Aobei was going with this. “Is there any way we could make this look like a ploy by one of the other noble houses?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “We?”

“I didn’t listen to your story and go through all that just to let you get yourself killed two minutes later.”

“Then you should probably avoid appropriating anything from the house.”

“Good call. Shall we?” The lich held out a hand, his clockwork entourage crackling to life.

“Wait. Any priest can cast speak with dead and learn who was there.”

The spell sage altered her appearance to that of a living Tien. She snapped her fingers. Her illusion-casting mage disguised all the clockworks as a team of armored mercs. “How about that?”

“Hoshi” nodded grimly and took her hand. There was no way around it. They had no doubt Aobei was going to slaughter every single humanoid in that manor house. All they could do was keep the lich’s fury from finding servants and innocents from whom they could mindwipe with a purging Steal Secret.

Aobei and the clockworks’ attack was a massacre. Sanca did what they could to hide the servants and children, but even they weren’t sure if they got to them all in time. By the time it was all over, the first fingers of rosy dawn were peeking up over the treeline. The lich teleported Sanca and her mages back to the front doors of the fallen house’s vault.

“It’s over. You’re free of the Zuos,” said Sanca, shifting from Oulan back into their kitsune guise.

The lich looked down at the phylactery now hanging from her neck. The corners of her mouth lifted into the curves of a smile. “So it is. So I am. Thanks for your help, Hoshi. I...owe you a favor.”

“I--thanks. By the way, if you need a place to keep your bigger clockworks while you’re looking for a lake in Valashmai, I know a cavern in the Seething Hills with this great, boiling underground lake.”

Aobei laughed, huskily. “Of course you do, Mystery Warrior. That actually might be nicer than having to come back here to get them.”

“I’ll take you there now, but I don’t have much time.”

“You turn into a dragonfruit in the daylight?”

“Something like that. Do you think that marut would want to go to?”

“Daku’s bound to his post. Though I suppose now that I’m free I could free him as well.”

“Please do that. I’d hate to leave the poor guy locked up for all eternity down in that dungeon. Alone, especially.”

The lich frowned thoughtfully. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t want that fate for Daku either. He’d actually grown fond of that oblivious, lumbering hunk of metal and earth. “I will. He’s--a friend.”

“I knew it! I knew you had a good heart!” The kitsune exclaimed with curiously child-like exuberance. They took Aobei’s hand in both of theirs. Before letting go with a sheepish grin. “There’s one more thing I can give you, if you’re willing to accept it. Have you ever heard of a Rebirth Point?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hoxi “Hoshi” Sanca, Tian-La ninja 8/rogue 11/serpent-fire adept 4]  
> N medium Tien  
> Rank: specialist  
> Initiative: +24  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent, see invisibility, blindsense 60ft, blindsight 30ft, aura sight, see in darkness  
> Aura: absentia (5ft), enigmatic stare, veiled steps, trackless step, detection void, woodland stride
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 56 (defensive instinct, shadow blending, quickness, dodge)  
> HP: 330  
> Fortitude: +31 (warding talisman)  
> Reflex: +38 (warding talisman, quickness)  
> Will: +52 (towering ego, warding talisman)  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison, timeless body  
> DR: 40/-- (mind barrier)  
> SR: 30, energy shield (100 pts), globe of negation (10ft, 20 spell lvs)
> 
> [Offense]  
> Move: 40ft (fleet in shadows)  
> Melee: 4 shifter’s fury natural strikes +32/27/22/17/12/7/2 +4 (4d6+4+Dex+Str/18-20x3) (quickness)  
> Ranged:   
> Special melee: sneak attack +18d6, steal secret, transfer affliction, style mastery (panther, snake, tiger), legacy weapon  
> Special ranged: pain wave (20ft burst), necromantic focus
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: solipsism  
> At-will: share memory, object reading, chain of eyes, spatial switch, slip bonds, free in body, telekinesis, wild shape, a thousand faces, prestidigitation  
> 2/day: darkness  
> 1/day: deeper darkness  
> 1/week: outside contact (Renjian Diyu)
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 58  
> Dexterity: 58  
> Constitution: 54  
> Intelligence: 48  
> Wisdom: 48  
> Charisma: 60
> 
> Feats: Weapon Finesse, Two-Weapon Fighting, Double Slice, Power Attack, Combat Reflexes, Combat Expertise, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack, Whirlwind Attack, Vital Strike, Improved Critical (natural strike), Point-Blank Shot
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Auran, Common, Draconic, Druidic, Giant, Kelish, Necril, Orvian, Sakvroth, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Undercommon, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Ninja abilities: Poison Use, Ki Pool, Pressure Points, Improved Uncanny Dodge, Ki Block, Light Steps, Flurry of Stars, Shadow Clone
> 
> Rogue abilities: Finesse Training (natural strike, shuriken), Trapfinding, Evasion, Danger Sense, Umbral Gear, Double Debilitation, Surprise Attack, Rogue’s Edge (escape artist, fly)
> 
> Serpent-Fire Adept abilities: Flurry of Blows, Chakra Training, Light Spirit
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: loot, rod of splendor, body wrap of mighty strikes (keen), cloak of the diplomat, boots of teleportation
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Questlines:
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	51. Trial of the Rooster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another farewell

The slaughter of House Zuo plunged their district of Baguan into chaos. Thanks to the remaining noble houses. Both House Yixi and House Nanfang vehemently denied being behind the massacre, but both also laid claim to House Zuo's farmlands and city grounds. Which turned them into a free-for-all battleground between their associated martial artists--the gangsters scavenging through the fallout.

While Mitsuki hadn't expected this turn of events, the rebellious barkeep was well-prepared. They deployed the six martial artists who had responded to their call to bring the refugees of the new warzone back to the Steam Hole. There, the barkeep was able to assess the damage and grant them funds for aid or to rebuild elsewhere.

Naturally, this dispensing of seemingly limitless funds from a poor tengu barkeep drew attention. But Mitsuki's six champions, all paid for by "Hoshi," fought off all spies and less stealthy opponents. The mysterious kitsune himself stepped in from time to time but mostly left affairs in Mitsuki's capable claws.

Soon enough, summer solstice was drawing near. It was time for the ninja and serpent-fire adept to return to the Inverted Tower for his yearly trial.

[Trial of the Rooster begun]

According to Master Cai, roosters were associated with the element of metal and could supposedly fight off evil spirits. The first belief translated when Sanca passed through the door that opened in the sphinx's chest into a dungeon made of metal that clanged and rattled in anticipation of distant enemies. What he did not expect to find was a tengu child crying on the floor/ceiling of the first chamber.

He floated down slowly, carefully, with both palms held up and empty. “Hey, hey, hey--what’s wrong, buddy?”

The big-eyed tengu child looked up plaintively. He explained between snivels and sobs. “Mama and Baba and Brother and Sister and Auntie and Uncle got taken away by the metal people. I followed them here but they just disappeared and now I’m lost.”

This most likely was or was related to the ‘true’ trial--reunite all the members of the tengu family. Sanca patted the child’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring them back to you.”

An empty promise. Knowing this tower, there were probably enemies or traps in the holding chambers that would require some finicky solution to make sure that each family member could escape alive. Which meant this first go-around would be more recon than rescue.

But at least she could finally test out her brand new shuriken. Sanca had finally been able to buy them with a handful of coin from the loot she’d acquired. Diyu had gotten her fair share and Mitsuki had gotten theirs, so no one had even bothered to ask what she’d wanted with a measly 50gp.

The truth was far worse than Sanca could’ve imagined. The “metal men” or clockworks had kidnapped the child’s family at the behest of various devouring spirits and hungry ghosts. Who were in the process of preparing/cooking/eating the tengus.

There was, effectively, a time-limit. As Sanca discovered through gruesome trial and error, the only way to save every member of the family was by barging in and kidnapping them back. And gradually acquiring a tail of attacking of spirits and clockworks. Which she then had to distract and lead away from the reunited family to enable their escape.

But the trial didn’t end at their escape. Sanca also had to make her escape. Which she couldn’t do by vanishing, thanks to the ethereal spirits. Instead, she destroyed all six ghosts in a flurry of natural strikes. Without their masters, the clockworks lost the will to fight and slumped into sleep mode.

[Trial of the Rooster cleared]

[Level up: Serpent-Fire Adept 6]  
[Chakra Training improved: Chakra Adept]  
[Navel chakra unlocked]

[The navel chakra is sometimes called the power chakra, for it is associated with fire, combustion, digestion, anger, joy, fear, anxiety, and laughter. Here the serpent-fire swirls and swells with heat and vital energy, the source of the so-called “fire in the belly” of common parlance.

Upon awakening his navel chakra, the initiate can channel the serpent-fire as a breath attack that deals 2d8 points of damage in a 30-foot cone. This radiant gout of orange-gold liquid flame somewhat resembles fire, but bypasses all forms of energy resistance, protection, and immunity.]

“Woah! Like a chakra dragon!”

[Base speed improved +10ft]

A sweet perk, but not as amazing as serpent/dragon breath!

[Serpent-Fire Adept ability gained: Purity of Body, Ki Range]

Sanca took a look--immunity to all diseases, even magical ones. Nice. 

Ki Range appeared to be related directly to all the shuriken training and usage they’d done this year. For one ki point, they could increase their thrown weapon range by 20ft. “Yeah! Power to the shuriken,” they nodded.

[Level up: Ninja 11]  
[Ninja Tricks learned: All the Stars in the Sky, Breath of the Ancestors]

[All the Stars in the Sky: Certain master ninjas possess a seemingly limitless supply of their trusted weapons. Whenever a ninja with this trick buys a set of 50 identical shuriken, they thereafter replenish them at no cost and never run out. This stock of magical shuriken can be upgraded as though it were a normal magic weapon.]

“No way!” Sanca checked his shuriken stash. Sure enough, they had replenished despite having chucked every single star during the re-trials.

As for Breath of the Ancestors, it prompted him to choose one dragon type. Yet the only option was serpent-fire.

[The ninja gains a breath weapon that deals the same amount of damage as the ninja’s sneak attack with a Reflex save for half damage. The breath weapon is a 30ft cone of serpent-fire. The save DC is 10 + 1/2 level + Int. Using this ability is a standard action that expends up 2 ki points, and once used it cannot be used again for 1d4 rounds.]

[Navel chakra breath weapon upgraded]

Now that was some scary class synergy--and amazing! Sanca had a breath weapon now just like the infernal dragon’s. But unlike Diyu’s, this primordial-esque serpent-fire bypassed literally all defenses except for Reflex.

[Feats earned: Precise Shot, Improved Critical (shuriken), Rapid Shot]

All in all, the way this ninja/serpent-fire adept training was going really was synergetic despite obvious differences in approach. Ninja was all about stealth, yet ninja also tapped into techniques as unstealthy as breath weapons. Serpent-fire adept clearly had no such aspirations toward sneak and shadows, but it had an internal training aspect that bolstered such stealth anyway.

It was...a balance. Shadow yin and serpent-fire yang. Maybe that was part of the secret of the Dark or Mysterious Warrior. Maybe. If Sanca was truly to understand, she needed a mentor, not just a bunch of admittedly challenging and unorthodox trials.

But a mentor just wasn’t in the cards at the moment. This year was possibly Zhongxia’s last studying with Master Cai. Drisna, now 8 years old, joined the eunuch’s classes. This left Taiyang, Mukta, and the 3-year-old Sanca to play, but their days were far from peaceful.

The fight between House Yixi and House Nanfang escalated into an outright war across every district and farmland of Baguan. They were no longer interested in establishing a balance of power. They were killing for supremacy.

Their destructive battles and new, harsh regulations of the poor denizens of their claimed territory only proved to the people of Baguan that neither house had any inclination to protect or benefit them. There was no longer any doubt. The nobles were nothing but cruel and uncaring tenants leeching off the common folk.

Thus, the rebel movement spread like wildfire in the streets and farms. There were protests and riots in every district of the town, including that of Mango Gold. With the nobles too preoccupied with the battles between their teams of martial artists, they empowered and mobilized the local gangsters to put down the riots instead.

At dusk, the whole family in Mango Gold was startled by the explosion of their own front gate. They had been targeted, and not without reason. Ranshadan regularly joined the protests and liberally funded the rebellion.

Now every child in the house was crying and screaming in pure terror while Ranshadan ran to their rooms to collect them. All but Sanca. She had only seconds to make a choice.

Maintain their guise as nothing more than an unusually somber child and carry on with the natural course of life for this family. Or become the powerhouse that they were in truth and risk losing everything they cared about. Again.

Sanca, clutched in Ranshadan’s arms, raised their eyes to their parent’s face. The gangsters had entered the building and were setting more bombs to blow the entire place to smithereens. The Tian-La’s eyes were terrified, but their face had set into a helm of steely determination--they would get their children out in time.

Ranshadan’s will was as futile as it was contagious.

[Wild Shape activated: Firebird]

Sanca transformed in their arms and flew free, toward the gangsters out front. They shut their ears to their parent’s cries behind them. Ranshadan had to focus on getting the others.

The gangsters looked up at the small, glowing sight. It was the last thing they would ever see. The firebird opened their mouth and blasted them and their nearest bomb with a 30ft cone of orange-gold, liquid flame. They were incinerated.

Behind them, the remaining bomb was only partially destroyed. The rest of it instantly detonated.

The entire neighborhood must’ve heard the explosions. Those who’d come running from the first were there to witness the deafening destruction and collapse of an entire wing of the house. Searing ash and scorched debris flew into the crowd--injuring those who’d come too close.

Despite the great black cloud in its wake, many had already caught sight of the firebird through the blasted gate. All Sanca could do was vanish and try to reappear innocuously on a sofa in one of the relatively untouched rooms. Ranshadan, covered in soot, found them.

They broke into tears, but wiped them away just as quickly. The young parent had to be stronger than ever. They picked up their last “child” and carried them out into the street with the rest of the family.

The children were safe, mostly. There was no mistaking it now. Ranshadan’s youngest was/still possessed by the firebird. They assumed that the mystical creature meant Sanca no harm, but they had no way of knowing how much of their child was in that toddler and how much was an alien and most likely adult being.

At least, not yet. Not until they had a talk with Sanca/the firebird.

A neighbor let Ranshadan and their family stay with her and her family since Mango Gold was...possibly too associated with trauma for them to sleep--much less live--there at the moment. Though it was late, the young parent held Sanca’s 3-year-old sized hand and took him for a walk out from the town.

“Sanca?” they asked quietly in the stuffy, starlit night.

“Yes, Danqin?”

“Can you be honest with me?”

“Yes, Danqin.”

“I--I saw you turn into a firebird. This isn’t the first time it’s happened either. Wh-who are you? Are you really my Sanca?”

The ‘child’ went very silent. The two continued walking. Stopping would’ve only made this vital confrontation more crushingly awkward.

“This is my true body. But my soul has lived many lives. I don’t remember all of them, but I never seem to have lived very long.”

Ranshadan stopped then. They dropped down to Sanca’s eye level. Their own eyes welled over with tears. They held the child’s shoulders in shaking hands.

“Don’t--don’t say that. You--you may remember your old lives, but this is your life now. You’re my child now. I love you, and I’ll always love you, and I’m going to protect you. I’m going to make sure you have a normal life--I swear it.”

Sanca’s face crumpled. She snivelled and blinked, trying to hold back a flood of tears and emotion. “D-Danqin, my life can never be normal. N-not when I have the power to help.”

“You’re a child! You don’t have to do anything. Just be a child. Please! Just be my child.”

“If I did, we wouldn’t be alive right now,” said Sanca through her free-falling tears.

Ranshadan grit their teeth and held back their own snivels. The firebird was right. And they knew as well as her that this wouldn’t be an isolated incident. All of Baguan was in danger while the nobles were at war.

“Then we’ll move. We’ll leave Baguan, we’ll leave Quain if we have to. We can go to Shaguang. We can go--”

“I--I can’t leave Baguan.” Sanca’s voice broke as she said it. There was something more. Something deeper there, but the child/firebird was struggling to spit it out.

“Why?” Ranshadan asked, their voice hushed with ill premonition. With knowing.

“I’m the reason this is happening.”

The young parent shut their eyes. They let go of Sanca with one hand to drop their pained face into it. “I’m your parent. I’m your parent. But I--how do I help you?”

“I don’t know, Danqin. Maybe you had a good idea. Take the children out of Baguan. Just keep them safe.”

“You’re one of my children! How do I keep YOU safe?!”

“I...I’m enough to keep me safe. And if I’m not, I know a dragon who will.”

“A dragon? A drag--” Ranshadan let out an incredulous laugh. Their eyes met Sanca’s. “Y-you’re--you’re serious. You know a dragon.”

“Yeah. And a wizard, too. And six top martial artists all loyal to Baguan--loyal to the rebellion. We’re going to be fine. We’re going to end this.”

The young parent pulled their child into a close hug. A farewell hug. “Sanca. I love you. So you better keep your word. As soon as this is all over, we’ll come back and find you.”

“I love you too, Danqin. Th-thank you.”

They couldn’t speak for a long time afterward--first crying, then walking back in silence. Sanca wondered if it was actually better this way. Anatu had thought so, anyway.

So Sanca left as soon as Ranshadan went to their room, where all their siblings had gathered under the covers of their parent’s bed. They flew out as a bat and transformed under the cover of darkness into Hoshi. 

Mitsuki didn’t ask when the weary, bedraggled kitsune staggered into the Steam Hole. They looked like they’d gone through Hells and back. The barkeep just made sure Hoshi made it to a room with a sleeping mat before passing out cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hoxi “Hoshi” Sanca, Tian-La ninja 11/rogue 11/serpent-fire adept 6]  
> N medium Tien  
> Rank: specialist  
> Initiative: +24  
> Senses: low-light vision, darkvision 90ft, scent, see invisibility, blindsense 60ft, blindsight 30ft, aura sight, see in darkness  
> Aura: absentia (5ft), enigmatic stare, veiled steps, trackless step, detection void, woodland stride
> 
> [Defense]  
> AC: 56 (defensive instinct, shadow blending, quickness, dodge)  
> HP: 330  
> Fortitude: +31 (warding talisman)  
> Reflex: +38 (warding talisman, quickness)  
> Will: +52 (towering ego, warding talisman)  
> Immune: mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison, disease, timeless body  
> DR: 40/-- (mind barrier)  
> SR: 30, energy shield (100 pts), globe of negation (10ft, 20 spell lvs)
> 
> [Offense]  
> Move: 50ft (fleet in shadows)  
> Melee: 4 shifter’s fury natural strikes +32/27/22/17/12/7/2 +4 (4d6+4+Dex+Str/18-20x3) (quickness)  
> Special melee: sneak attack +18d6, steal secret, transfer affliction, style mastery (panther, snake, tiger), legacy weapon  
> Ranged: +1 shuriken (50) +32/27 +1 (1d2+1+Dex/19-20x2)  
> Special ranged: sneak attack +18d6, pain wave (20ft burst), necromantic focus, breath of the ancestors (serpent-fire, 30ft cone)
> 
> [Spell-like abilities]  
> Constant: solipsism  
> At-will: share memory, object reading, chain of eyes, spatial switch, slip bonds, free in body, telekinesis, wild shape, a thousand faces, prestidigitation  
> 2/day: darkness  
> 1/day: deeper darkness  
> 1/week: outside contact (Renjian Diyu)
> 
> [Statistics]  
> Strength: 58  
> Dexterity: 58  
> Constitution: 54  
> Intelligence: 48  
> Wisdom: 48  
> Charisma: 60
> 
> Feats: Weapon Finesse, Two-Weapon Fighting, Double Slice, Power Attack, Combat Reflexes, Combat Expertise, Dodge, Mobility, Spring Attack, Whirlwind Attack, Vital Strike, Improved Critical (natural strike, shuriken), Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Rapid Shot
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Auran, Common, Draconic, Druidic, Giant, Kelish, Necril, Orvian, Sakvroth, Shadowtongue, Sylvan, Thassilonian, Tien, Undercommon, Varisian, Vishkanya, telepathy (1mi, previously touched creatures only), tongues
> 
> Ninja abilities: Poison Use, Ki Pool, Pressure Points, Improved Uncanny Dodge, Ki Block, Light Steps, Flurry of Stars, Shadow Clone, All the Stars in the Sky
> 
> Rogue abilities: Finesse Training (natural strike, shuriken), Trapfinding, Evasion, Danger Sense, Umbral Gear, Double Debilitation, Surprise Attack, Rogue’s Edge (escape artist, fly)
> 
> Serpent-Fire Adept abilities: Flurry of Blows, Chakra Adept, Light Spirit, Ki Range
> 
> Combat gear:  
> Other gear: rod of splendor, body wrap of mighty strikes (keen), cloak of the diplomat, boots of teleportation
> 
> Questline items: Shards of Envy, Pride, Lust, and Greed
> 
> Questlines:
> 
> Quests:  
> -Gather the seven Shards of Sin and reassemble the Sihedron


	52. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sanca/Hoshi encounters a squad

Hoshi padded lightly down the stairs into the main room of the Steam Hole. It was busy as usual these days--filled with refugees in line to pick up money for supplies or food from the self-serve station of simple fare that Mitsuki had set up along the side. The kitsune filled up a bowl of rice porridge and sat down at a table with some other displaced refugees.

He contacted the tengu telepathically half-way through his bowl. “The nobles’ war has gone on long enough. Let’s end this now.”

“Unless you have the power to take out both noble houses at the same time--forget about it,” the barkeep mentally snapped back. “If the surviving house realizes there’s some powerful outsider who took down the others, it’s all over for us. They’ll call down aid from royal House of Wen itself and blame everything on us.”

“Oh.” Simply being on the edge of the combat between the two houses was bad enough. A full-on war with all of Quain itself--it was a sobering prospect.

“‘Oh’ is right. If you really want to help, get us more funding. No one is able to farm right now, so all of our food has to be brought in by caravans. Our forces are being spread thin defending against bandits and gangsters, but I could contract more martial artists with more coin.”

“I’m on it.” The kitsune wolfed down the last of his porridge and went off to call on Diyu at once. Nothing like an urgent purpose to pull a blind over an aching heart.

“I’ve been thinking about your offer,” was the first thing out of the infernal dragon’s mouth.

She hadn’t mentioned it for so long that it took Sanca a second to blink and remember. “The Reborn Point, yes. What’s your decision?”

“I’d like to take you up on it.”

“Yes, of course--but you’re not going to use it right now, are you?”

“You need a dungeon?”

“Yeah. One with a big pay-out. Maybe the Lair of the Four Winds Tortoise.”

The dragon blew curling smoke from her nostrils with a deep, rumbling laugh. “The Four Winds Tortoise is a kaiju--you would die before you even laid eyes on its full proportion.”

A kaiju. They were immense creatures worshiped as gods by the ancients. Woe be to all when they walked the world. 

A single kaiju was capable of devastating entire cities in 24 hours of ruin with their powerful supernatural attacks. Each one was colossal and semi-intelligent. Some could even understand a language even if they couldn’t speak it.

According to Master Cai, a kaiju’s supernatural metabolism allowed them to draw energy and nutrition from sources other than food. Each kaiju “fed” in a different way on a different form of energy. If denied their energy source, they didn’t starve. Instead, the immense monster simply fell into torpor, hibernating until a new source of energy awakened them once again.

If the Four Winds Tortoise was a kaiju beneath the Seething Hills, they were most likely truly hibernating then. Or possibly feeding off the geothermal heat or natural gases. 

Raiding their lair would most likely awaken them into a rampaging, destructive frenzy. If a kaiju couldn’t find the source of their rage, they would supposedly trample a path of devastation through whatever settlement happened to be in their way. Their warpath could last for weeks.

No, one could only go up against a kaiju if they were 100% certain that they could kill the kaiju. Sanca was certain that they couldn’t. They were also certain that they didn’t want to. 

Kaiju weren’t evil. They were just immense magical beasts. They were also supposedly very few and far between--something like an endangered species, only each one was the only one of its kind. There was no record of them breeding. Many scholars theorized that they were ageless or perhaps strategically died and were reborn. More reasons to avoid a confrontation with one.

“Ok, so forget the Four Winds Tortoise,” said Sanca.

“Indeed. I do know of a fitting dungeon, but it isn’t local. You’ll have to travel into the heart of the Eryiu.”

That was miles and miles northwest of Baguan. The Eryiu Forest was a high-altitude woodland nestled along the southwestern stretch of the deadly mountain range known as the Wall of Heaven. The forest was almost as dangerous as the domineering mountains that had long sheltered the Lung Wa empire from any threat from the Embaral Ocean--essentially all of Casmaron. It was also rife with strange and ancient ruins that drew adventurers from every corner of Quain.

“This particular dungeon was once some academic and magical center whose experiments drew the attention of the denizens of Leng who dwelt in the nearby mountain peaks where the border between dimensions is thin. They invaded and brought the rift to Leng with them. Now the dungeon exists partially in Eryiu and partially in Leng--dangerous enough that no one has ever successfully managed to loot it.”

“Sounds perfect. You want your usual cut?”

“I assumed this information was in trade for the RP.”

“No, no. The RP’s a gift. I just wanted the information first because when you use it, you disappear and can end up anywhere in the entire world--possibly without any memory of your former self or life.”

“Ah. Well--no. I don’t want a cut for this. You may consider this a gift as well.”

“Thanks, Diyu,” said Sanca quietly. He was genuinely touched by the infernal dragon’s change of heart. He reached a hand upward.

She lowered her head enough for him to touch it. Sanca passed on one of his points--just as he’d done for Aobei and Daku, too. Diyu, in turn, passed over the location of the dungeon, Atelier of the Rift.

“Diyu, will you be here when I get back?”

“I don’t know, Sanca. But I hope so.” 

The infernal dragon would say nothing more on the subject, keeping her secrets as protectively as any of her treasures. So they parted--genially but uncertain of what the future held for them, wondering if this was the last time they’d see the other. Their friend.

Lunzhou was an unassuming village on the northern bank of the Golden River and just below the eastern reaches of the Eryiu. The occasional adventuring crew into the woodland would find itself there when they got lost and missed one of the larger farming or trading settlements. But it was otherwise a quiet, peaceful place--if nearer to the forest than most settlements dared.

Because Lunzhou was special in one regard. It was a sacred site of Qi Zhong, god of the five elements, magic, and medicine. Even the village elders were unsure as to why the deity had blessed the simple settlement with its simple ways, but there was no doubt of Qi Zhong’s influence. 

Every few decades or so, a few kineticists were born into a generation. These individuals possessed power over one or more of the five elements--which gave them incredible potential as martial artists of Quain. The most recent kineticists were the three teenagers now trekking from the lowland into the much deadlier highland region of the Eryiu.

Mu Taqing, the one leading them, was a 15-year-old wood kineticist. The other two were water kineticists as well as siblings. The elder was Han Xianhe, 14 years old. His sister, Lanjing, was 13. All three had the look of the Tian-Shu villagers--deep, olive brown skin, black eyes, and dark, reddish-brown hair.

The last traveler who’d stumbled into the village--wounded, ragged, and delirious--and raved about some ancient ruins they’d discovered. Such was the case with most ill-fated adventurers who arrived at Lunzhou, but this one had a map. Nobody noticed when Taqing nicked it.

Now, the squad had no delusions about conquering every monster in the ruins. They simply figured that daily journeys to the ruin would provide training opportunities for their kinetic powers. One day, they might even become strong enough to enter said ruin.

A twig snapped. The squad froze. Taqing hardened their skin to tree-like strength. Xianhe raised a shifting disc of shielding water. Lanjing took a ready stance between them, water whirling between her hands--she hadn’t mastered any defenses just yet.

Out from the trees lashed giant white bones constructed into a stinger and claws. There wasn’t time to scream. There wasn’t even time to breathe. Much less launch a grievously ineffective attack of water and verdant blasts.

But as they stared death in its giant, bone-scorpion-like face, it shattered into a million, showering pieces. Its killer materialized in front of them as smoothly as any ninja. The stranger was a kitsune with curiously golden brown fur to match her golden brown eyes. Their look was aghast.

“What are you kids doing here?” she hissed, obviously trying not to scream at them.

With the source of their life-threatening terror littered harmlessly over the forest floor, the three straightened up sternly and resolutely.

“We live here,” said Lanjing, her voice still a little high-pitched from the near-death encounter.

“Not, like, here-here,” corrected Xianhe. He managed a bored drawl even in spite of the monster.

“Let me handle this,” said Taqing with a confidence they weren’t really feeling. If anything, the only thing propping them up was adrenaline. “We’re martial artists in training. And all this land right here belongs to our village. So what are you doing here?”

That was a lie, of course. Lunzhou believed that the forest was a sacred entity of its own. The village was one of Eryiu’s many caretakers and defenders. Though most only dared to venture into its lowland reaches.

“This is not happening. This is not happening,” the kitsune muttered--to herself, apparently. But when she looked back at the squad, it wasn't like they'd just disappeared. "Ok, ok, here's the deal--I take you back to your village, you get to live, and I don't tell your parents how you almost died. How's that sound?"

"No. You're not hearing us. We can here to train and we're gonna train."

"YOU aren't hearing ME--you're on dungeon grounds right now. These are ancient, Leng-tainted ruins full of monsters from the Nightmare Dimension. Death is the most merciful end they can offer you."

"I don't see any ruins," said Lanjing, looking around.

"We're probably standing on them," drawled Xianhe.

"Look, we're obviously not capable of going IN to any ruins, but right here is fine. We'll stay outside and you do your thing inside, Pathfinder," said Taqing. Only pathfinders ever talked about dungeons.

"Absolutely not!" did the kitsune. "You almost died 'right here.' Go back down the mountain where it's safer."

"No!" the squad refused. Their resounding resolution echoed through the trees and whatever unseen ruins were here.

A second giant bone scorpion burst out from the trees. Staying back, Taqing, Xianhe, and Lanjing blasted it with razor-sharp petals and water, respectively. The ninja landed the final blow, but the squad clearly softened it up first. Probably.

Hoshi sighed as the advanced skull ripper shattered apart. They weren't gonna be able to get rid of these teenagers unless they knocked them out themself.

On the other hand, this could be an opportunity to instill some real growth, training, and power into the squad so they'd be able to truly defend the Eryiu. The xp payout on both constructs had been much less than Hoshi had expected--meaning the kineticists must've absorbed the rest of them. And with the strength of the monsters around here, they'd definitely power up from just a week of training/soaking up the xp from the ninja's kills.

"You're serious about training, huh?"

"Yeah!" said Lanjing.

"Duh," said Xianhe, rolling his eyes.

"We are. And you can't change our minds," said Taqing.

"Fine. Fine. May your deaths be on your own hands." Hoshi vanished into greater invisibility. 

But they kept the squad on their radar, herding monsters by them to get their well-meaning efforts into the fight. They could spare a week to empower the youth.


End file.
